Pot Calling Kettle
by secretsofgray
Summary: Gothboy and Blondie collide like never before - and, naturally, they become unlikely friends. Sort of. GaaIno. GaaraxIno.
1. I

**Potcallingkettle, take two. **

**Yes, this is revamped. Yes, this is still the same basic plot –ish. **

**Yes, I have changed this to a Gaara/Ino story. Why? Because there's too many Gaara/Sakura, I'm already writing Tenten and I'll be damned before I write a Gaara/Hinata. **

**So, enjoy, hate, do as you will.**

**Disclaimer: Don't Own Naruto.**

**.x.**

Ino's espresso buzz was wearing off, she had failed a math quiz, and her knee hurt like a bitch after the nth laps of swimming she'd had to do at practice today. Her parents had been up all night arguing, _again,_ and thusly she had been kept up all night, _again. _Her hair refused to obey her and swim practice hardly helped with that. The bathing suit was tight, as per usual, and she wasn't allowed to shave her legs until the day of the meet.

In short, she wasn't having a good day.

So when some KISS wannabe was blocking her way out of the girls' locker room, she was more than a little miffed. The actual exit was still inside a little alcove-closet thing, and you had to go out another door to get into the hallway – and presently her way out was blocked by an impassive young man.

She recognized him – Gaara no Sabaku or something like that. It was hard to forget him – he was the only person in the school with spiked, crimson hair, raccoon-like eye makeup, and so much _metal._ He hung out with Naruto and was in her English lit class – and there ended her association with him.

He was doing an effective job of blocking her way – he wasn't very tall, but he made up for it in sheer presence. Ino crossed her arms, cocked her hip, and said, "Excuse me."

Gaara regarded her a little lazily and a lot contemptuously. "Yes?" His voice was low and rough – she wondered if he smoked. _Or more likely, he growls for some band or something. And now he's being difficult. Ugh, so not my day._

"You're blocking my way," Ino said in a carefully measured voice. _Will he take the goddamn hint?_

"I know," he said, and she _definitely_ detected some smugness in his tone.

Ino probably should have been frightened. After all, this was Gaara, God of Goths, rumored to feed upon the blood of kittens and the dreams of underprivileged children. Rumors aside, he _was_ somewhat asocial with psychotic tendencies – Naruto had _met_ the guy in an anger management program.

But she was Ino, pissed-off swimmer extraordinaire and oblivious to imminent danger.

So she went for the proverbial throat. "So can you _move?"_ she charged as much venom into her voice as possible and hoped that it didn't sound too whiney.

"I can," he said. Okay, there was _way_ too much amusement in that tone for her liking – even if his tone was detached for the most part.

And it was _just_ enough to send Ino over the edge.

"Then why don't you, oh wise one?" her words were laced with equal parts venom and sarcasm. He blinked, and she continued, "I'm having _a really shitty day_ and I'm not about to let some Manson-worshipper intimidate me into…_whatever_ the hell you're trying to do. So _back off._" In a moment of either complete anger or utter idiocy, she jabbed a still-pruned finger into his chest and glared up at him. "Got it?"

He looked down at her, and Ino noticed two things. The first was that, without all the makeup (or maybe because of it?), Gaara would have really pretty eyes.

The second was that he looked absolutely murderous.

Ino inwardly shied away, but she'd look absolutely ridiculous if she backed off now. She held her ground, but retracted her hand and fixed her gaze on his forehead instead of his eyes.

_What the hell's that kanji mean?_ He had a tattoo on his forehead; it was red and it was some Asian character.

"I'd watch myself if I were you, bad day or not," Gaara said, slowly and deliberately, barely checked anger boiling just under the surface, "Blondie."

"Oh _hell_ no," Ino huffed in exasperation. "You Goth people think you're _so_ superior, enduring suffering that we mere mortals can't even _begin_ to imagine. Well newsflash: the rest of the world has issues too and they get along just _fine_ without wallowing in their own angst or making other people's lives hard. You're not fooling anyone with the masks. So, if you could be _so kind_ as to _move out of the fucking way_ so I can _leave_ this building, hmm?"

Okay, so she had no idea where all that came from. She had nothing against Goths. But she was _pissed,_ and this guy had invoked her anger. It was reason enough for him to become her verbal punching bag.

Gaara was looking down at her now and by all the laws of physics she should have spontaneously combusted. But she was Ino Yamanaka, so she only paled considerably and took a step back. He said nothing, only continued to stare her down. Ino mentally cursed herself. Gaara was by no means tall, but he had enough height over her for it to be annoying – _and_ on top of that, she was in sweats, her hair was a rat's nest personified, and she reeked of chlorine.

It didn't do much for you when you were trying to tell someone off.

Especially when that someone was a psychotic gothboy who could very well want her blood.

"And the pot calls the kettle black," he said in a deceptively soft tone. Red flags went up in Ino's head.

But she was Ino Yamanaka, dammit. "And there you go again! Not _everyone_ has the collective intelligence of an ape! You think you're so much better and all intimidating and _ugh_ what am I doing here?"

And Ino shouldered (rather bodily) past Gaara no Sabaku.

_Perfect ending for the perfect day, eh? _

Sarcasm. You had to love it.

x.x.x.x.x.x

After practically sneaking into her own house and running up the stairs as lightly as she could, Ino purged the chlorine from her hair and skin in a long, hot, much-needed shower. Her parents were downstairs, caught in the heat of an argument that would probably lapse into stony silence over dinner.

She sighed. _Dei, why can't you be home?_

Stupid goddamn college kid for a brother.

_Can't blame him. I've been at Sakura's and Shikamaru's more often than not nowadays._

School, friends, swim. She had cut herself out of the 'family' section of her life rather neatly over the past few months. Things were never as bad as they were now – there was a word for it, the slowly-but-surely getting worse: insidious.

Also was an up-and-coming horror flick, too.

And that _kid_ from today. Okay, so maybe he hadn't _completely_ deserved her going off on a tangent and going batshit, but he had caught her at a _really_ bad time. Maybe, tomorrow, she'd apologize.

Well, only if he did first.

Seriously, who _did_ that? There was no apparent reason for him to be there, either – he wasn't on the boys' swim team or _any_ sports for that matter.

_Ugh. People need to die. And what did he say? Pots and kettles? What the hell does that even mean?_

It had been plaguing her. She had Googled it, and the results all had to do with some form of hypocrisy. What did that mean – did he think she was a closet Goth, or had a superiority complex?

Eh, maybe the last one wasn't too far off. She could hardly remember what she had said, so _he_ was probably just being pretentious.

She groaned and flopped down on her bed, suddenly grateful that she had taken the time to finish her homework. All she had was that stupid report to do on _Jane Eyre,_ which she'd probably SparkNotes anyway. The 'acclaimed novel' was three hundred plus pages of pure bullshit.

_Seventeen chapters in and we haven't even gotten to the plot…meh._

She was too tired, both mentally and physically, to continue her mental ramblings or listen to her parents fight or try and pretend to eat dinner.

So Ino rolled over, turned off the lights, and promptly fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	2. II

**Hey All. **

**Okay. So if for whatever reason you're reading this chapter but have yet to go back and read the first, **_**go do it now.**_** I revised everything **_**niice **_**and good. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. **

Ino's day was barely thirty minutes started, and she knew it wasn't going to be a good one.

Aside from the usual 'having to awake at an ungodly hour to catch the bus,' her parents had gone from the _yelling at one another _stage of fighting to the _I am ignoring your existence_ stage. It wasn't fun, and you could slice the tension in the room with a freakin' spork.

And, to top it all off, she couldn't find her wallet.

It wasn't _just_ a wallet. It was oversized, often confused for a wristlet, and practically held her _life_ in there – twenty-some dollars in cash, her _keys,_ I.D., gift cards to numerous stores, her phone, _and_ iPod.

Essentially, there went her two lifelines, way to enter her house, money, and only form of identification (at least for another four months when she could get her license. But that was another matter.)

She groaned. _You probably left it in the locker room. Just go look for it today at lunch or before school. _

Right. She could do that.

But she wound up missing the bus and her mother had to drive her – something the woman was _not_ happy about. Ino sat in the back quietly, trying to gather her presence inside herself. She hardly dared to breath, much less justify herself to the raging woman.

It didn't help that Ino was _nothing _like her mother.

Ino's mother was a quaint woman who ran a flower shop. Ino worked there part-time, but hell if she would run one for a living. Her mother enjoyed homely hobbies; Ino would manage to flub up anything more complicated than pasta. Her mother was uptight, a control-freak, and moody.

Ino blamed her mother's influence whenever she was exhibiting such traits – something that Shikamaru had no issues about pointing out.

And she looked _nothing_ like her – her mother was short, with dark hair and eyes. Save for the height, it was obvious that Ino took after her father – blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Well, Ino used to think that she took after her father.

Now she was beginning to think that _someone_ had an affair.

But now that wasn't her issue; _now_ all Ino wanted to do was get to school in one piece, a feat to be marveled at considering her mother's driving.

But she did, and she left the car and slammed the door without so much as a goodbye. _She_ might not be the one screaming, but she could sure as hell play a game of the cold shoulder.

She glanced at the clock as she made her way to her locker. Ten minutes left of homeroom – she should be okay.

_That is, if I don't commit mass homicide first. _

x.x.x.x

Ino was the only employee inside her mother's flower shop. It was right after school, Thursday – one of the few days she didn't have swim practice. The season was almost over anyway – the winter holidays were about to set in, and the last meet was two weeks before Christmas.

_Which means that coach will be going harder on us. _And _I can't find my wallet. Why do the gods hate me? _

Seriously. If there was a way to get in with the big man, she'd love to know.

The ringing of the bell over the door alerted her of a customer. She straightened, tried to look bright and attentive. Customers didn't like seeing moody teenage cashiers wallowing in apathy. It wasn't good for business.

She craned her neck, trying to get a good look at him – all she caught was the black sleeve of a hoodie before he shifted and was concealed by the flowers and plants. A minute later he walked into her line of vision – she recognized the red hair, eyeliner, and black getup right away.

"_Gaara?"_ she asked before she could stop herself. Out of all the people in her school, he was the least likely she'd ever expect to find in her flower shop.

The boy blinked in response and took two steps forward, never taking his eyes off her. It was unnerving, the way he was so expressionless and _small_ but seemed to rise up like a storm if you just looked into his eyes.

He deposited something purple onto the countertop and she was jerked out of her trance.

"My wallet! How'd you –"

"You dropped it," he said. His expression didn't change but Ino could _feel_ the condescending look rolling off him in waves.

_Oh._ "Right, um. Sorry." She had no idea why _she _was apologizing, but what could she really say? The oddity of the situation startled her – here was _Gaara, _in her _flower shop._ Save for his hair, he was a spot of black amongst greens and yellows and _color._ Now that she looked, he actually seemed to know that he was out of place – for once, it seemed, Gaara was uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Thanks," she settled on, placing a hand on the wallet. "My life's in here. Seriously." She cut herself off from saying _I owe you one;_ firstly, it wasn't a smart thing to say to teenage boys and secondly, she didn't want to vocalize her debt to Gaara.

But Gaara just gave a single, birdlike nod, and then slipped out of the store, the ringing of the bell and her wallet the only concrete presence that he had even visited in the first place.

Ino slipped the wallet into one of the many cubbies behind the counter and stood up straight as the next customer entered.

_Okay, maybe today's not _so_ bad._

x.x.x.x.x

That marked the end of Ino's Gaara-encounters.

At least, for a while. There were no more incidents involving the boy, and Ino went about her week with a spring in her step and a grin on her face. It wasn't all fake, not really – she couldn't bear to be sad, not when Christmas was around the corner and Naruto had finally gotten the balls to ask Sakura out. Her brother was scheduled to come home in two weeks and her parents were on speaking terms again; for Ino, things were looking up.

But, as we all know, the gods enjoyed throwing curveballs her way.

It was simple enough – she had left her chemistry textbook in her locker, and she'd need it tonight if she had any hope of passing tomorrow's test. She had no problem running back to the second floor to retrieve it, and now slightly out of breathe and her backpack two pounds heavier, she was heading down the back stairwell.

She heard the sounds of a fight and stopped dead. The last time there had been a serious fight at the school, it had been between Shikamaru and some skitzo upperclassman; she and Choji, as well as many teachers, had tried to break it up.

_Tried_ being the keyword. It had been bad, when a lazyass like Shikamaru got worked up enough to summon the energy needed to want to fight, let alone let a mistimed punch break a teacher's nose.

But from what it sounded like, it was breaking up. She heard heavy footsteps fade down the hall, and when they were gone she hazarded a look around the corner.

Gaara stood there, fists clenched, breathing hard. There was a slightly crazed look in his eyes and his spiky hair was mussed. His skin was unmarred, save for one long cut going down his forearm.

_Wonder what the other guy looks like,_ she thought. Gaara was a notorious fighter and rumored to be involved in an underground fighting circuit. Ino didn't know how true it was, but she witnessed Gaara and Kimmimaro going at it freshman year.

It hadn't been pretty.

Gaara still hadn't caught sight of her – she was debating whether to hightail it out of there or, you know, maybe –

Oh, crap. His gaze was locked onto her, intense and staring as always.

_Better say something. _"Uhm. So, ah, what was that about?"

Gaara didn't respond, only blinked and looked down, picked up his backpack.

_Lovely._ "So ah – hold on a sec. Your arm…" she trailed off, gestured to the blood that was now getting onto the white linoleum floor.

He looked down at his arm, then up at her. "What about it?"

She cleared her throat. _No going back now._ "You wanna get that checked out?"

Gaara shrugged but didn't say anything.

Ino pursed her lips. "Come on. That's going to get infected." And she spun around on her heel, not really expecting him to follow. _Just head to the locker rooms and when he doesn't follow, leave. _

She glanced over her shoulder for solely the sake of proving herself right, only to discover that Gaara _was_ following her.

_Oh God that's awkward. Oh. Okay. _

Ino wasn't _nervous._ She wasn't getting the 'child molester/rapist/murder' vibe off Gaara, and as long as he wasn't being infuriating – like last night – he seemed relatively okay. Quiet, on edge, but _okay._

That is, when he wasn't being scary as hell. But now he seemed alright, if not a little skittish.

She gestured to a bench just outside the room for him to sit. She went inside, calling a 'I'll be right back' over her shoulder. She half-expected him to, she didn't know, follow her inside and then maybe strangle her, but he just sat on the bench and stared at his boots.

_Ino, get a grip. He isn't a murderer, he is Gaara. _

…_and the difference is? _

…_point…_

She brushed the thoughts away and retrieved the first aid kit. Gaara was still sitting there on the bench impassively. Ino took a moment to scrutinize his cuts – they weren't like scrapes, in fact they were a little too neat…

"Don't tell me someone had a knife!"

Gaara's eyes flicked up to her and stayed there, burning. "And what if someone did?"

_Don't let him faze you. Too late. Okay, don't let him_ know_ he's fazing you._ "Then that's pretty stupid," she replied. Gaara scoffed. "Are you going to patch me up or not?"

Ino bit her lip. Yelling at him wouldn't do any good now, and truth be told, she was curious.

_Yea, unhealthily so. About the Goth king of the school. Smart, Ino. Really smart._

There were cuts all along his arms and one on his forehead that was bleeding pretty heavily. She wadded up some gauze and told him to press it to that one, then lightly dabbed alcohol on the cuts on his arm. She was iffy about touching him; she didn't get it, usually she was a very touchy-feely person, but something about him…

It just screamed 'back off.'

_Well, duh. That's probably the point._

But it was different; of course black clothes and chains and thick heavy eyeliner did their purpose of keeping most people away, but this was something different. It was a freakin' _vibe,_ like something etched into Gaara's very being. An aura of _stay away._

She could tell he was as uncomfortable as she was by the way the muscles in his arms tightened and the slight frown in his otherwise blank expression.

But she was Ino Yamanaka; she didn't give up and she didn't let some angsty Goth intimidate her.

She finished and then bandaged his arm and forehead. "There. You're good." She backed away so she could wash her hands and he stood, nodded to her, and left without a word.

Ino couldn't tell if she was relieved or not.

**I'm not too sure if I'm happy with the way this turned out. huuh. Well, too late to change. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	3. III

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, holidays, or **_**The Catcher in the Rye.**_

_**And, I will say again: this is revamped of the original. **_

**x.x.x**

Except for that one time when he was returning her wallet, Ino would never expect to see Gaara in her flower shop.

She had just gotten on her shift and was surveying the customers: just a little old lady who always bought a dozen roses, and a man who was leaving. With Christmas and Hanukkah and what have you coming up, people were buying flowers and wreaths big-time, especially poinsettias. She shifted the nearby church's order form to the side (seriously, the building could single-handedly keep them in business) and proceeded to man the checkout counter.

It was almost six – almost closing time. She was the only one in the store, and after finishing her homework for the night, she was growing just a _little_ stir-crazy.

She sighed. Sometimes working in the store was so _boring._ The winter holidays weren't much for flower-buying; business would be slow until Valentine's day, then it'd drop again, pick up for Easter, stay up because it was spring, and then peak at Mother's Day.

And for the busy days, her mother would be in here, controlling everything. She'd _never_ get to exercise her flower-arranging prowess with that woman around.

It sucked, big time; she wasn't being egotistical when she said that she had an eye for color – she did. She wasn't as artistic as her brother, maybe, but even _he_ said that she had a flair for the creative.

_Like an interior designer, hm._ Deidara had said. _Or a fashion designer. You've got something, kiddo._

And coming from her brother - that was _high praise._

She could arrange flowers, dammit. It wasn't difficult, and she _knew _what she was doing.

_Try telling that to _her.

She was pulled out of her (quite mopey) thought by the ringing of the bells that signified the door opening. She immediately perked up. Two or three people entered; a young woman maybe around Dei's age was in the lead.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Ino asked almost instinctively. The woman glanced up, as if surprised, before saying, "I'm going to need a bouquet – for my mother."

"Ah. Anything particular in mind, color-wise?"

"Something bright," was the immediate answer.

Ino nodded and stepped out from the counter. By the sounds of it, the two people who had entered behind the woman were boys – and staying near the door of the shop.

She immediately went for Chrysanthemums – they were her favorite to use. _Screw carnations, these are prettier._ "What's the occasion, if you don't mind me asking?" Ino said pleasantly. She liked making small talk with complete strangers – it was one of the few things she liked about working at the shop.

"Her birthday," the girl answered a little stiffly. Ino frowned slightly but just said, "Ah."

Pink, yellow, burgundy – some purple, and then a white carnation, just to be cliché. A single red rose, because that'd help bring things together and then the trimmings –

"Ino, what are you _doing_?"

Ino inwardly flinched, but her shoulders visibly tensed. "Helping out a customer, _Mother._"

Her mother shot her a Look, one that told Ino that her 'tone of voice' was duly noted and would be dealt with at a later time. "I told you to come get me. You're going to mess it up." She sighed. "Go inside and tell your father to take the chicken out of the stove." And then she turned to the woman and apologized for her daughter and plucked out the chrysanthemums and rose.

It was like a slap to the face, for Ino. She stood there, glaring at her mother's back from safely behind the counter, until a guy called out, "You done yet, Temari?" and a brown-haired boy came up, followed closely by Gaara.

Ino's eyes widened and she turned to go, but in that split second that their eyes met she knew that he had seen the entire thing. She didn't know why, but she knew that she didn't like it.

x.x.x

It is a fact universally acknowledged that teachers are some of the stupidest people ever to mar the face of the earth. They have these ideas about kids, most of which aren't true.

Like their ideas on seating arrangements and how they make rowdy kids. It's completely false. When kids can choose their seats, they sit near people they get along with and can count on to back them up. In such a situation, class can run relatively smoothly, because you're not next to someone you want to kill.

The seating arrangement in Ino's English lit. class was just so. Ino was in the perfect seat, in her opinion: not in the front, but not _waay_ in the back like an emo child, close enough to the window, between Chouji and Sakura. Shikamaru was in front of Chouji, next to the window; Naruto sat behind Sakura (though it was a wonder how he had managed into Track I English), and next to him was Kiba (who was a surprising literary genius). Behind Naruto sat Gaara, all by his lonesome.

And Sasuke was _far_ on the other side of the room, as was Kimimaro.

It was a beautiful arrangement.

But all good things must come to an end, and when Kurenai decided that they were 'too rowdy' and 'unruly' and 'I'm coming up with a seating arrangement,' no one took her seriously.

But of course, she was serious. And when they trudged into fifth period one Monday, she instructed them to, 'not sit, you have new seats.'

There was an uproar.

"_What?"_ Naruto shouted. "That's – that's _dictatorship._"

"No one ever said this was a democracy, Uzumaki. Now –" and she gestured with her pen to a seat too close to the front for Naruto's liking, "sit."

And so it went. Naruto was behind Sasuke (which was just bad planning on Kurenai's part) and next to Chouji, and Shikamaru was front and center 'so I can make sure you stay awake.' Sakura was removed to sit next to Sasuke and behind Shkiamaru, who was next to Kimimaro (unfortunately, the little brother of Hidan – oh, this was not gonna end well) and Ino was moved a desk down, next to the window.

Gaara was seated next to her.

Ino didn't think much of it; except that she wished he'd stop exuding waves of _don't fuck with me._ She wasn't going to; she had no interest of violating his personal space or trying to be friends with him or whatever he was so flipping averse to.

She just wanted to get to lunch at this point.

So, after The Quelling of the Disgruntled Uzumaki and a brief discussion on _The Catcher in the Rye,_ Ino breezed past Gaara, waited up for Sakura, and headed to the cafeteria, chatting about how adults suck and _what the _hell_ is for lunch today?_

x.x.x

"So," Sakura said as they ate their lunches, "How's Gaara as a seating partner?"

Ino shrugged. "Wouldn't know. He hasn't said two words to me. But," she frowned, thought back to the night after swim practice and the fight, "I guess I'll be interesting.

"He's not that bad," Sakura said mildly. "A little asocial, but he's Naruto's best friend. Not a bad guy, if you look at it."

"Or," Ino said flatly, "Compare him to Naruto's previous best friend."

"Yea," Sakura said, a little quietly, "Or that."

Ino winced. "Sorry. Crossed the line there, didn't I?"

No one really knew what had happened between two summers ago, except that it had broken up three best friends in the worst way possible. When asked, Naruto would go stonily quiet; Sakura would retreat into herself and mumble and try to change the subject, and Sasuke would punch whomever dared to ask.

Whatever had happened, apparently it was serious.

Sakura shrugged and poked at her pasta salad, and Ino said, "Anyway, Sasuke's a prick who we stalked in eighth grade. But, alas, now we have a much higher caliber of man to gawk at. That is," Ino poked Sakura with the end of her fork, "we _used_ to."

Sakura snorted. "Please. What happened to, 'we've been calling this relationship since kindergarten' or the bets that were placed on it, hmm?"

Ino sniffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that my best friend decides to get tied down on me to _Naruto._"

"You're just jealous that I beat you to a boyfriend this year, don't lie. Unless you're counting –"

"_Don't_ mention that."

Sakura grinned evilly. "I never mentioned _Shino._"

Shino. A nice guy, admittedly, with a cool exterior. Ino had dated him Freshman year, but it had ended in a snap.

The guy was obsessed with bugs. Not just collecting. _Obsessed with._

And Ino was terrified of anything with more than four legs.

Especially creepy, crawly, _things_.

The relationship hadn't lasted.

"Well," Ino said, suppressing a shudder, "Need a mention _Lee?"_

Sakura twitched. Obsessive fanboy to the nth power. "What did you say?"

"You heard me!" Ino said with a wink as the bell rang. She'd catch it later, but oh well. You gauged friendship on how much abuse was in the relationship, she figured. And she and Sakura were going strong.

x.x.x

Ino was almost too tired to put one foot in front of the other. She adjusted the strap on her bag and yawned, taking her keys out of her pocket as she walked up her driveway.

However, there was something unusual awaiting her on the doorstep.

There sat a single burgundy chrysanthemum, the edges of the petals dusted with a light frost. Ino frowned – was this her mother's idea of an apology? Or a sick joke?

_Idiot. She probably just dropped it on her way in or something. Take a chill pill. _

Ino sighed. Whatever. It was a pretty color, and it'd look nice on her nightstand. So instead of heading straight up to her room, she braved the dining room – which was right by the kitchen, which had become a war zone in recent months – and retrieved a vase.

Her parents didn't notice her amongst their screaming; Ino wasn't quite sure how that sat with her.

She just rolled her eyes and trotted up to her room, placing the flower in water and going to take a shower, thoroughly exasperated with life in general.

X.x.x

**Short, kinda uneventful. But I'm setting up some stuff and I figured that this story deserved an update, so here it is. **

**OH YEA. There's a poll in my profile, check it out. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	4. IV

**I don't own Naruto. **

**x.x.x**

Ever since Kurenai had changed the seating arrangements, fifth period English had become a room full of tension. Some days were worse than others, granted, but the room was turning into a war zone. Discussions were becoming full out arguments; it was dangerous to look at someone, and making eye contact was a sign of aggression.

And, of course, whenever Kurenai left the room, all hell broke loose.

Today was a day worse than others.

When asked, no one would know what had sparked it. It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment when everything falls apart – it's just one of life's little mysteries.

Gaara knew, though. Unlike the other kids, he watched, and listened. He could tell you exactly how it started. Tensions had been mounting, and it was only a matter of time before they were released in a surge of aggression.

The catalyst for such a release was Sasuke dropping his pen.

One wouldn't think that the Uchiha extraordinaire would do something so mundane as to drop a pen, but he did, and perhaps it was someone so otherworldly doing something so human that set it off.

As it was, the pencil was under Sakura's seat. And, when he reached over to get it, Naruto saw his arm move and got the wrong idea. He flung his textbook at the other boy's head, but his timing was off; Sasuke was bending over, and it soared over him and connected solidly with the back of Shikamaru's head, startling him out of a nap.

Kimimaro snorted – about as much a reaction as one could expect out of him – and Shikamaru actually mustered the motivation to turn to the boy and slug him across the face.

Nobody moved for a split second. Then, Kimimaro lunged for Shikamaru, but didn't count on the other boy dodging, and instead he landed on Jugo.

And the boy went absolutely ballistic. He threw Kimimaro off him, whirled, and socked Sakura in the face for no apparent reason.

Next to Gaara, Ino stood. "Hey!"

And although ruckus was taking place, Kurenai had had her back turned and was oblivious – Ino's call alerted the woman, and she turned just in time to see Naruto lunching across two desks for Jugo's throat and Gaara throwing a spiral-bound book at Jugo's head.

"HEY!" Kurenai barked. Everyone froze, save for Naruto who collided solidly with Jugo. The other boy threw Naruto off, and he blinked up at Kurenai from his vantage point on the floor.

"Ino, Gaara, Naruto, and Jugo. Detention."

"_What?_" Ino and Naruto shrieked in a never-to-be-repeated moment of unison, just as Jugo screamed, "I'm _innocent!"_

Gaara said nothing, but his shoulders tensed visibly. Temari would be _pissed._

Not that he cared.

"You heard me," Kurenai said all too brightly. "And it takes two to tango. Detention."

"For _what?_" Ino persisted, then figured it would be better if she sat down. She did, and Kurenai said, "For disrupting class. Now, if you would all be so kind as to open your copies of _The Catcher in the Rye_ to page ninety-six, where we see Holden has an encounter with Sunny…"

The rest of Kurenai's words washed over Ino. Sakura turned around and offered a small smile, but Ino could see that Sakura was going to have a nice shiner.

_Ouch. I can't believe that Kurenai missed that! _

Ino sent Sakura a half-rueful, half-sympathetic look, but on the inside she was screaming. She had _practice_ tonight. Coach was gonna be _pissed._ And what would it do to her reputation to be in detention with _Jugo,_ let alone her marks.

_At least demerits weren't mentioned…_

Ino was a bit of a closet scholar, and truly cared about her grades – even if the only people who knew were Sakura and Shikamaru (both of whom had helped her study on more than one occasion.)

Ino spent the rest of the period glaring at the back of Kurenai's head.

She _so_ didn't need this right now.

When class let out, Sakura rushed out, as did Gaara and Naruto. Ino sighed and gathered her things. She was one of the last people in the room, and probably the only one to notice the spiral-bound book that was left on the floor near Jugo's seat.

She frowned and went to pick it up. It was a sketchbook – Gaara's.

Curious, she flipped through it as she made her way to lunch.

x.x.x

Ino was certain that the school clocks had a conspiracy against her. Whenever she needed the day to end, and _now,_ they would take their good old time moving; but when she could use the extra time to compose herself and enjoy the not-dread, time absolutely _flew_ by.

Shikamaru, in a rare moment of wit, had called it the _Theory of Inverse Cognitive Relativity_ – something about time either working one way or another depending on how much you wanted or didn't want it to.

Well, it _totally_ explained a lot, and used big legitimate scientific words to explain that _clocks hate Ino._

As it was, the day absolutely flew by and Ino was less than happy at two o' clock that afternoon.

And she needed to give Gaara his sketchbook back – he was probably missing it by now. She had no other classes with him and figured that detention was the next best thing.

But holy crap. That kid could _draw._

And good, too. Having Dei for an older brother made her aware of what was 'good art, hm,' and what art 'sucked ass.' Her brother's sense of what was….true art…was a little strange, but she could tell that Gaara had talent. There were pictures of everything and anything – a mug, a bird, a scene of a dragon destroying a castle, a forest, a cat, a raccoon, and her favorite – one of a cutesy little anime fox, all sketched in a perfect mix of cartoon and detail.

_Who knew? _

She handed the disciplinarian the slip Kurenai had so graciously written her at the end of class and went to the back to take her seat and start on her homework. Some moderators were stick and wouldn't let you do anything, but Asuma was lax. He didn't mind, as long as you were quiet and all technology was away (which was a pity, because Ino could _really_ go for some Foo Fighters right about now.)

Gaara wasn't in yet – she'd give him the book after

She walked in and sat down near the window in the back. Naruto entered in soon after, and took a seat next to hers. "This sucks," he grumbled as he sat. "We did _nothing._"

"I know," Ino said quietly back. She snapped her mouth shut when Asuma looked up, then when he looked back down said, "Kurenai's crazy."

Naruto snorted. "_Jugo's_ crazy. And she didn't notice anything until–"

"Uzumaki," Asuma shot him a warning glare, then went back down to the papers he was grading. Naruto glared back and grumbled something deep in his throat. He visibly tensed when Jugo stormed in, but the other boy took a seat on the opposite side of the room.

"Can't believe the psycho would up and _punch_ her," he growled. Ino _mhmed_ her agreement. Seriously. Jugo was known as one of the more unstable kids and all, and was rumored to have been held back two grades, but still, to just up and punch somebody…

"I'm surprised she didn't punch him back," Ino whispered.

Naruto cracked a grin. "She did after class."

Asuma looked up as Gaara entered. Ino watched as he strode in and took a seat behind Naruto, and wondered exactly how someone with so many chains could move so _silently._

Well, not silently. There was only a faint _clink,_ not an incessant jingle like she expected. It was strange, in a way.

"Well, there's Sakura for you."

"I know."

"Uzumaki!" Asuma glared at the boy.

"Sorry!"

Ino smiled to herself. Naruto had somehow managed to endear himself to almost all the teachers, and Asuma probably wouldn't do more than call him out on talking.

She sighed and turned back to her math worksheet and tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

x.x.x

When the detention hour ended, Jugo bolted out of the room. Naruto bid her and Gaara goodbye and raced after him. Ino sighed, and wondered if he'd ever learn. He was an alright kid, just really dense at times.

"Uhm," Ino said, turning to Gaara. She didn't know where the sudden attack of shyness had come from, but it was unnatural and ridiculous. She cleared her throat. "This yours?" she held out the sketchbook. Something flickered across Gaara's face; his arm flashed out, and the next thing she knew he was holding it rather possessively to his chest. "Why did you have it?"

"You're really good," Ino said, ignoring his question. "Like, seriously talented."

"You _looked though it?"_ Gaara made it sound like she'd just eaten a baby and looked rather scandalized.

"Yes?" Ino didn't like how it came out more as a question, but Gaara ignored it. "Because you have a right to violate other people's personal property, am I right,_ princess?_" he sneered.

Indignation surged up in Ino. "Will you pull your head out of your ass? I was looking for a _name,_ jerkoff, and happened to see some of the art. Take a goddamn chill pill. I gave you a _compliment._ Just say thank you and go one your way."

"Of course, because you're _such_ an expert on art," Gaara spat.

_This guy is impossible._ The smart thing to do would be walk away. But Ino, though intelligent, could be rather immature. "Actually, I happen to know a thing or two. Jeez. Just because you wear black and brood in corners doesn't mean you have artistic superiority – "

"I never said I did," he countered, taking a step forward. "I said you _didn't._"

Ino couldn't resist – she rolled her eyes. "Well_ shove it._ Because I do –"

"You don't _take_ art – how the hell would you know anything?"

"Some people just _do,_" she sniffed, not really liking where this was going. There were several reasons why she didn't take art, and half of them revolved around one person. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not stupid."

"Yea, you just care too much about what people think."

Okay, that stung. She ignored it. "You're the one flipping because I looked at your sketches."

For a split second he looked surprised, as if he didn't expect her to turn his words around. "That's because," he said, not missing a beat, "They're _private._"

"Right," Ino drawled, a malicious grin crossing her features, "Or you just don't want people to know that the God of Goths draws chibi foxes." _Yea, what now. I speak anime. SCHOOLED. _

Gaara's looked changed from 'Annoyed' to DIE BITCH DIE. Ino figured that that would be a good point to leave the room, so she did.

Promptly.

And left a seething Gaara in her wake.

x.x.x

**Consider this an apology for lack of updates. Yay! **

**Don't worry, the chapters will get longer as the story progresses. They always do. **

**And, if you haven't already, be a dear and check out the poll in my profile? **

**And, as always, let me know your thoughts. **

**Seriously. At this point in the story, while its still developing, your opinions matter the most. ^-^**


	5. V

**I own nothing. **

"I _hate_ the new seats."

This declaration was accompanied by slamming of the lunch tray and squeaking of the chair. Ino could only nod her agreement. Ever since that day in detention, Gaara had been particularly touchy.

Well. Maybe not touchy. But the waves of _"fuck with me at your own risk" _he was exuding were even more intense. He'd come in just before the bell rang and leave three seconds before the bell rang.

_Like I have a disease or something…well, I guess it could be worse._

She _could_ be Sakura, who had to deal with Sasuke and Naruto being themselves – something that Ino did _not_ envy her for. Gaara wasn't a great person to sit next to, but if she left well enough alone, so would he.

_But that the beauty of it, eh?_ Some sick, strangely curious part of her didn't _want _to leave well enough alone. The part of her that was morbidly fascinated by things most people turned their heads at _wanted_ to know more about Gaara – she couldn't resist it, much as she wanted to. She was curious. She'd never hung out with him, never really even _spoke_n to him. All she knew was the obvious, and that he was a helluva good artist.

_Which isn't much._

She could ask Naruto – he and Gaara _were_ awfully close – but that would come off as weird.

_So Sakura's my next best bet._ "Hey, Sakura?"

"Yea?" Sakura still was mad, but most of her ranting was over with for the day. _Probably._

"Do you know anything about Gaara being…artistic?" Ino came off as nonchalant – asking/stating stuff, getting information out of people. She was good at – she wasn't quite a gossip, despite what people said, but she _thrived_ off drama. She knew how to get people to talk – besides, this was harmless conversation with her best friend.

Sakura shrugged. "I've never really asked. I mean I know he takes art, and Naruto's mentioned it a couple of times…why?"

"In class, he has this sketchbook with him…I've seen some, and he looks pretty good. Just curious, I guess." Ino shrugged. She hadn't been banking _too_ much on Sakura knowing, but some small part of her couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Sakura looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I've only seen one thing of what he's done, and it was something for Naruto – some kind of abstract painting on his wall. But then again, I'm not too close with Gaara."

Ino _mhmed_ and the conversation turned to more typical topics for teenage girls. But the nagging curiosity in the back of Ino's mind wouldn't go away.

x.x.x

Sometimes Ino felt compelled to do something, and because she was Ino, she did it. She followed her instincts – and right now her instincts were telling her to visit the art department. Swim wouldn't start for another twenty minutes – more than enough time to kill.

Every freshman who wasn't a music major was required to take an art class because it counted for a credit or something; Ino had been one of those freshman who had walked into the art room the first time and fallen in love. She wasn't particularly artistic per say – definitely not as good as Deidara – but she had a flair. She wasn't half bad at sketching and painting, but what she was really good with was the abstract – not necessarily Picasso, but more like graphic art.

She visited the department sometimes for no apparent reason – lots of students did. The teacher, Sasori Akasuna – was actually a friend of her brother, and viewed as one of the more 'chill' of the faculty.

When she entered, she was assaulted by the smell of paint and drying clay and Windex cleaner. Sasori nodded to her as she entered and said, "Here to make yourself useful, or just to bum around?"

"Bumming," Ino answered with a grin. Sasori never played favorites, and she never played the 'friend of the family' card. He was just like that with his students, even if he had the patience of a wasp and a sharp tongue to match. She'd be fine as long as he was in a good mood and she did nothing to change that. "What crazy project are you having them do now?"

"See for yourself," he motioned toward the large paper lying on the table. It was a concept sketch of a garden in front of a brick wall – on the brick wall the word _mural_ was written, and in the center of the garden, the word _statue_ was written.

_So they're gonna redo the school garden…get rid of that old fountain and put a statue there, do something to the stone side of the building._ "Still in the early stages?"

"Not quite," he answered from his position on his desk. From here Ino could see that he was carving something into a block of wood. "The students are making statues. The faculty is going to judge them, and whichever is deemed the best is the centerpiece. The runners-up will be placed throughout the garden; the mural has yet to be decided upon."

Ino _mhmed. _It was a typical Sasori organization. She began wandering around the room, looking at the half-dried, not-quite-finished canvases lying on the desks. Sasori began talking to someone, and soon Ino felt a presence behind her.

She turned - and nearly jumped out of her skin. Before she could say something in indignation – and rightly so – Gaara spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

His tone threw Ino off, but only for a second. "It's the art room. I'm _allowed_ to be here."

"What are you looking at?"

"What's this, twenty questions?"

Gaara opted out of responding and instead brushed past her and walked toward a desk. A beat up, black and red schoolbag was next to it, a closed sketchbook lying on top. Gaara shoved the sketchbook into the bag, zipped it up, and stormed out of the room with a strange, silent vehemence.

Ino stared at his retreating back for a moment, then sighed. Now that she thought of it, she probably should have counted on seeing him here.

_And if I had done that, things could have gone a lot better._

But she was sort of angry at him now; she was still curious as to who this kid was – the kid who looked like he belonged in Motely Crüe but drew cute woodland creatures – but he was so freaking _irritating._

Ino sighed again – she seemed to be doing that a lot – and glanced at the clock.

_Crap. I'm late for practice._

_If Coach makes me do extra laps of fly because of this, I'm going to kill something._

x.x.x

Kurenai had left the room, with the instructions to 'catch up on some reading' and to 'act somewhat civilized, or I'll defenestrate you,' and 'look it up, Uzumaki.'

Unlike the other day, the students weren't at each other's throats. Ino idly began doodling on her notebook, but when that got boring she gazed around the room. Sakura was talking to Naruto; both were ignoring Sasuke's existence rather proficiently. Shikamaru was snoozing, Chouji was eating, and Gaara was drawing – _wow._

"That's amazing," Ino said to him before she could stop herself. Gaara tensed and turned to face her, arm covering the sketch of a spider. He said nothing for a minute, almost like he was sizing her up. Ino had gotten (almost) used to his glares by now, and he said, "If you're so interested in art, why don't you take it?"

"Who said I was interested in art?" Ino shot back. She was inwardly pleased with herself for the snappy reply.

Gaara gave her a Look. "Why so defensive?"

_I'm not defensive! _Ino mentally yelled. "Why so pushy?"

"Denial," he snarled, and then stood. Two seconds later, the bell rang.

Ino glared at his retreating form, pissed off because mostly, he was right.

x.x.x

Every year before the winter break, the art department took a trip to one of the local museums. This year it was in the city, with a special exhibit on Impressionists. It was sponsored by the art department, but anyone could go.

Ino went. Sakura was _supposed_ to come with her, but _somebody _had to go and catch strep throat and be _absent._ (Or at least, she _said_ it was strep throat, but Ino was going to laugh if it turned out to be mono. But Naruto was in, so maybe it wasn't. But still.)

Ino didn't mind going alone, but she preferred company.

_Oh, well. You win some, you lose some. _She had her iPod; she'd be able to survive the bus ride.

She leaned her head against the window pane, selected a Simple Plan song, and cranked up the volume.

Her peace was broken when the bus came to a halt some forty minutes later. They were instructed by Sasori to exit the bus in an orderly fashion and remain quiet as they entered the museum. Of course, being the unruly high school students they were, they didn't.

They went to the special exhibit as a group – and it was awesome. Cezanne, Monet, van Gogh, a little Picasso, some Renoir…Ino liked Monet the best – of course the others were good (except maybe Picasso, she just couldn't _get_ his work) but she liked the water lilies, and the sunsets, and the sunrises.

She was interrupted from her admiration by a presence behind her. She immediately felt her stomach plunge. _Deeply._

Sai stood there, fake smiles and all. "Hello, Ino."

_No. no no no nonoNONO!_ Sai wasn't supposed to be here. What was he doing here? _She_ was here; Sai was supposed to be _far, far, far away._

There was a huge ball of anxiety in her stomach, and Ino didn't like it. "Hey. I gotta go – bye!"

She was at the end of the exhibit – thank _god –_ and she made a beeline for the exit. The rest of the time they were at the museum they were allowed to go off and look at whatever else they wanted to – as long as they were back at the entrance by 4:30.

_I have almost three hours to kill. And avoid_ him.

Ino didn't even want to _think _about him. So instead, she looked around. She was in the surrealist section, if that painting by Dali with the clocks was anything to go by.

"_The Persistence of Memory…"_ she read. She liked it. There were clocks that were melting, and an odd landscape, and…

And someone was behind her.

_I swear, if it's Sai…_

It wasn't Sai, though.

It was Gaara.

_Even better._

He was standing behind her but off to the side, also looking at the painting. He gave her an assessing look – a look that let her _know_ that he _knew_. She wasn't sure what he knew, and she didn't like it.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Her voice seemed _wrong, _ in the gallery. It was too loud – there was somebody at the very end of the hallway, but other than that they were alone in a white room with artwork on the walls. The ceiling was tall, and even though the corridor was a little narrow, it made Ino feel like she was in her own world.

_And he's violating it._

"You like Dali," he stated. She shrugged. "It's a nice painting."

A muscle around his brow twitched. "So it is."

Ino nodded; she wasn't quite sure what to say next, but her beat her to it. "Do you like the watercolors he did?"

_Dali did watercolors?_ "Uhm…" she wasn't sure how to answer it. She didn't know that the artist did watercolors, but at the same time she didn't want Gaara to know her ignorance. But the decision was made for her when she heard footsteps, and a voice that sounded distinctly like Sai's.

"Yes – do you know where they are here?"

He nodded, and made a motion that must have been Gaara-speak for 'follow me.' He led her up two flights of stairs, down a corridor of white, (where they lingered in silence to check out the art work) through a series of rooms (where they did the same) and then off into a light-gray room. The plaque on the side of the wall read, _Salvador Dali – watercolor and mixed media on paper. Limited Time Exhibition._

It was awesome – there was an entire series on the _Divine Comedy,_ which Ino thought was cool in a morbid way but she could tell that Gaara really liked (that is, if the amount of time he spent looking at them was anything to go by.) Some of the artwork was slightly disturbing, in the way that it tap-danced on the fringe of your understanding – but Ino found a macabre fascination with those particular paintings.

"You claim not to be interested in art," Gaara said, dragging her out of her trance.

Ino didn't turn to him when she answered. "I never said I _wasn't_ interested in art. I just don't _take_ it. I _swim._"

Gaara made a noncommittal noise. "But you come to the museum."

"You know, some people enjoy _looking_," this time, Ino did turn to face him. "Not everyone who's into art or whatever has to have some kind of deep soul or dark past or made-up problems so they have an excuse to wear black and angst."

Gaara glared at her; Ino involuntarily took a step back and immediately cursed herself afterwards. "And some people," he said, voice dangerously low, "Like the deeper meaning behind things. And some of _those _people like to wear black because they like to."

"Well isn't that just dandy," Ino said sarcastically.

Gaara stared at her for a minute, and Ino stared right back. Then she turned around, because his stare was intense and she needed to blink. Eventually, he said, "We should get going now."

Ino blinked and looked at her phone to check the time. _Four-fifteen. Damn._ "Right."

She followed him back – he took another way. They still sort of dawdled along the way, but they were back at the bus soon enough. The silence on the walk back, however, had grown increasingly awkward (for Ino, at least).

But they got back at four thirty-one. Sasori must've been in a good mood, though, because there was no lecture on being punctual (that, or the fact that some students were ten minutes late). They boarded the bus and when Ino took her seat, Gaara sat himself down right next to her.

_WTF?_

He didn't seem to want to talk, or be questioned – granted, mostly everybody (fearful of Sasori and his infamous impatience) had taken their seat – and the only other empty seats were next to other people.

_And I guess to Gaara, I'm as good as anybody. Or as bad. Whatever._

Ino mentally shrugged it off and turned on her iPod, leaned back against the seat.

_Whatever. Goth Boy can think what he wants. _

X.x.x

**Well, here it is. Sorry for the ton of artist-referencing. It doesn't really matter if you don't look it up or whatever, it's all for the sake of story. Future chapters aren't gonna focus so much on art, I promise. I don't own anything, including Naruto, any bands mentioned, or any artists/paintings. **

**And by the way, extra laps of butterfly stroke will**_** kill**_** anyone who doesn't like it, and even if you like it…ugh. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	6. VI

**Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto or any other items in popular (or otherwise) culture mentioned. **

**Note: I promise, I will avoid the cliché of the 'new-wardrobe-new-person-everyone-happy.' While this story does involve stereotypical roles and attitudes, no one's gonna change. They're just gonna find things out about themselves that they never acknowledged before. **

**Note the Second: I googled Gus fink, and right before I was about to sleep. Do I regret it? Only a little ;)**

…**.**

Ever since the day in the museum, Ino couldn't help but think that the stakes had shifted a little bit. It wasn't anything dramatic – she and Gaara weren't best friends or anything – but she liked to think that the vibes of killer intent were toned down just a _little_ bit.

That or Gaara had gotten his happy pills back. Either way, she wasn't complaining. He no longer _quite_ grew fangs when she craned her neck to see what he was drawing – she considered that a plus.

But today, Gaara wasn't her concern. Today, Ino was at the mall with her brother – today was an escape.

Deidara was essentially her, in male form. His features were a little darker, but his blond hair was pulled back into a kind of ponytail and a fringe hung over his one eye. He was slight, like her, but tall, like their father – but, unlike any male in his family, he wore eyeliner (which Ino didn't quite mind, he could at least work it) and a black trench with red cloud designs (which Ino was kind of jealous of.)

She and Deidara were sitting in the food court, he eating pizza and she picking at the sesame chicken in front of her. She wasn't in the best of moods, though she tried not to make it obvious. Today was the first time she'd seen her brother in a while; she wanted it to be a good one.

Deidara must've picked up on something. "What's going on, hm? You're acting all…mopey. Don't tell me it's that time of the month."

Ino looked up from her food and threw a half-hearted scowl in her brother's direction. "Last week, sorry."

"Well, I hope it's not a boy. I'm a scrawny artist, hm. I can't go around beating up the jock type you seem to go for." He grinned and poked her with a plastic fork.

Ino rolled her eyes. "Remind me again why I tolerate your presence?"

If anything, he grinned. "Because I am your big brother and I give you an excuse to get out of the house. How is it there, anyway, hm?"

Ino shrugged. "Meh. You know how it goes."

"It's worse, isn't it."

There was no sense in denying it. "Yup."

"They have _got_ to get their fucking act together. It's not right, hm," he snarled. While Ino had a feud with her mother, there was a solid wall of dislike between Deidara and both of his parents – something about throwing his life away with going to art school (and probably wearing eyeliner, because of course it's every father's dream to see his eldest son in makeup). There was more, Ino knew – but her parents didn't talk about it and she knew that Deidara was sparing her the gory details.

Ino shrugged again. "Less than two years and I'm outta there."

"The fact that you have that mentality says something, hm. You shouldn't have to deal with it."

Ino could kick herself. It was better not to get Dei started on the family baggage – even though (the way Ino looked at it, at least) their parents weren't falling down drunks nor did they have a hobby of beating the crap out of their children – which were major plusses.

They just had to get their fucking act together.

Ino shrugged again. "Look, I didn't suffer a solid fifteen minutes of mom's ranting to come here and angst about how much parents suck. How's school?"

Deidara was quiet for a minute, and looked like he might want to say something; but he shut his mouth and said, "It's good. Kinda cool, actually. I'm taking this course, hm, and –"

Being Deidara's little sister, Ino could follow along, and his words actually meant something to her. But, not being an art major, nor overly interested in making her own art, the concepts were abstract, and when he started getting into symbolism and 'breaking the laws of physics with pictures,' he began to lose her.

"Party hard?" she asked him a little too innocently when he was done.

"The hardest," he said with a grin. "How about you, hm? What's going on in the life in Ino?"

"Oh, you know," Ino said. As she spoke, she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

Actually, it was quite a few somethings.

Firstly, she saw Gaara among a group of Goths.

Then, walking by that group of Goths, she saw Karin, Sasuke, Jugo, and…

_Fuck. _

_Sai and _her_? In the same place? _Really?

The gods were against her. She was sure of that now. Before Deidara could notice her pause, (he'd probably just assume that she was ogling at an attractive male anyway) she deadpanned, "The usual. Smoking meth and worshipping Satan, occasionally engaging in necrophilia."

Deidara grinned. "Living up to your legacy, hm. I approve."

"As you should." Ino grinned.

"Watch yourself, hm," Deidara said. "Or I may decide not to get you that CD you've been waiting for."

"Yes, master," Ino quipped.

She promptly dodged the plastic fork that was thrown her way.

x.x.x

Ino was currently in the music store. Deidara was looking into some of that hipster or new age or whatever artists listened to these days and _she_ was making a beeline for the new arrivals. For just yesterday, the album _Aces_ was released to the masses.

Normally Ino would just download it, but this was special. This was something that she wanted tangible of – her mother didn't understand it, and neither did most of her friends, but Deidara sort of got it.

Spades was probably one of her favorite bands. Sure, she liked the poppy stuff that everyone liked, but there was so much _more_ than that. Some of her friends got it, but others…

_They'd ostracize me if they ever found my iPod,_ Ino thought cynically.

Such was the blessing of having an older brother who went through many, many phases like the artist he was – she was cultured as far as music went, to an extent, and knew everything from KISS to Motely Crüe to Bowie to stuff actually made in her generation – even if she'd never understand where the appeal was with Smashing Pumpkins.

She was admiring the album artwork when someone not quite three yards away spoke.

"You know, its people like _that_ that make me not like music." 

It was one of those comments that were spoke _at _you. Ino immediately bristled and shifted so she could look this guy in the eye and very possibly rip him a new one.

The speaker was a lanky teen with dead black hair and a lip ring. He was speaking to his companion, regarding her with obvious disdain. "People freakin' pollute good sound. Goddamn teenyboppers."

"_Excuse me?"_ Ino said, venom dripping from her words. She turned to fully face the boy, arms crossed, album in hand. "Were you speaking to me?"

The boy sneered. "And what if I was, princess?"

"Give me a break. You _really_ think that?"

"Never said otherwise," the boy said, taking a step forward.

Ino refused to be quelled. "You stupid anti-mainstream-hipster-punk-Goths think you know everything because you listen to Alien Sex Fiend and avoid the radio and hate things once it becomes relatively popular. Newsflash, it's freaking annoying. So knock off the holier than thou attitude and people might actually respect you, kay?"

The boy was absolutely seething now, and Ino finally paid attention to the boy standing beside him.

_I am so dead._

The boy who she had just told off was standing next to none other than Gaara.

His face was blank as ever – Ino didn't know if that was really good, or really bad. He said nothing to his friend or her, so Ino paid him no mind.

"You wanna make something of this, Blondie?"

"Not particularly. I want to go home and listen to my CD. Tootles. Oh, hi, Gaara." She grinned in a way that she'd _know _would piss the boy off – not only had she gotten the last word, but she'd said hello to his companion – _score one_.

She turned and stalked to the checkout counter, hearing the boy say, "You _know_ that psycho?"

Gaara must've known that the fate of his nether regions depended on his response, because he only _hned_ in reply.

In a way, she could see where the kid was coming from – it _was_ kind of annoying when you had a thing, and then other people started to encroach onto your thing – she got that. But really? Spades was a relatively unknown band – two EPs and an album released.

_Untouched by the masses,_ she mused.

But the Rocker Guy With a Giant Stick Shoved Up His Ass and Gaara left her mind as she found her brother and left the store.

x.x.x

"They're checking you out."

"Of course they are; I'm the only thing with a dick in this store, hm."

"Go say _hi._"

"Bite me."

"Mark the spot."

"Get real, hm – ow ow bastard!"

"Warned ya," Ino said with a grin. Deidara made a face at his arm, and she flicked him on the nose. "Now, should I get her the bracelet or the necklace?"

They were in the jewelry store – Ino was looking for a Christmas gift for Sakura. The store was on the lower side of the high-end spectrum, but there was a huge holiday blowout sale – one Ino wasn't about to miss.

Deidara inspected the necklace in question. It was a silver chain with a silver g-cleft pendant; Sakura must be into music, he mused, because the bracelet had a flute charm on it.

"The bracelet's cool, I guess, but charm bracelets are getting old. Go for the necklace – it's classier," he said.

Ino took another moment to scrutinize the jewelry, then nodded. "Yeah – I think Naruto already got her a bracelet anyway."

And so the purchase was made. As they exited the store, Deidara caught sight of an art supply outlet and proceeded to squeal (or, the closest thing Ino had ever heard a guy coming to _squeal_) like a crazed fangirl.

Naturally, he dragged her inside.

Here Deidara was truly in his element. He ran straight for the sculpting section, and with a small smile and a shake of her head, Ino went to follow him.

She was virtually unmolested until she rounded a corner and collided with something and dropped her possessions.

Or, _someone. _

More specifically, Gaara.

The day's earlier encounter slipped to the front of her mind, and for a second, Ino felt a little embarrassed; then she realized that she had just completely knocked into Gaara and _was_ embarrassed.

"Sorry," she told him with a sheepish grin. "Didn't, ah, see you there."

_Please don't kill me._ Screw the toning down of the 'don't fuck with me' vibes. This was _Gaara,_ and she had run into him.

_And dropped all my things. _

She knelt down to pick them up – Gaara knelt down too, to help her – and she gathered her things.

"Thanks," Ino said, taking the bag Gaara offered. She noticed that he was still holding one thing – the CD.

"Don't tell me you're going to give me shit, too," Ino muttered, narrowing her eyes.

Gaara's face was blank as ever – well, it sure looked it – but Ino _swore_ that amusement (_amusement!)_ flickered in his eyes. "Not…everyone shares his opinions."

"Well that's reassuring," Ino quipped.

He still didn't make to offer her the CD. "In fact, some would be pleased that he was put in his place."

The words_ by someone like you_ weren't said, but Ino could tell that they were there. "Well, anytime. I don't mind yelling at asshats who deserve it." She grinned. Gaara wasn't going to go berserker on her, and if she was correct, he had just congratulated her on biting a kid's head off.

_Score two for Ino._

Gaara was looking at her, and he _still didn't offer her the goddamn CD._ "This is an interesting band."

Ino shrugged. "That's why I like it."

"I wouldn't pin you for the type to like them."

"Yea, well," Ino said, but – _oh, no._

Over Gaara's shoulder, she caught sight of Sai and _her._ She didn't think they noticed her, yet, but still…

_I need to make a break for it. _Now.

"Just 'cause I don't dress like I belong in a hair metal band doesn't mean I don't like to rock out." The words came out in a rush, unfiltered and, surprisingly, true. Ino took the album from Gaara – he'd _finally_ held it out to her - and stood.

"I'll see you later. Gotta go!"

She was halfway down the isle – _and safely out of their sight –_ when Gaara said, "Ino."

She turned, eyebrow raised. _What could he possibly want to say? _

"Let me know how you like the album."

A smirk crossed Ino's features. "Yes, sir!" she said, just a _little_ mockingly.

And even though she was technically hiding from two people she hated, she did it with a lopsided gin and her head held high.

x.x.x

**And, a note to n00bs: **

**If anyone takes offense to the jabs at stereotypes, I suggest ChillPills. Because, honestly, it's a ****joke.**** And because this is the internet, people give you crap for dumb stuff. **

**No, I am not an ignorant prick pointing out how (insert subculture here) acts. I am poking fun at the worse behaviors/beliefs held by some people who appreciate good music and don't like it when other subcultures start to encroach upon their own. **

**If you haven't met somebody like that, then be grateful…-.-" **

**Hm. Hoped I did that okay, as far as the Ino/Gaara bonding. **

**But, in other news, let me know whatchya think. :D**


	7. VII

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. **

**Thanks to everyone who decided to make my day and review. I love your feedback **

That Monday Ino walked in school with the excited air of a student who knew that not much work would get done. It was a short week, too – today would be a day of watching movies and chatting away.

First period they watched the newest Disney movie – naturally, the guys complained to high hell, but five minutes into it everyone shut up and watched intently. Her second period teacher – a man of questionable sanity called Orochimaru – allowed them the choice of V for Vendetta and The Godfather.

The day was laid back, the atmosphere was celebratory – the holidays were right around the corner, and everyone was excited. (Even though the Christmas music that was being played on the radio was getting _so fucking annoying._)

Ino walked into English, promptly dumped her bag on her desk, and threw a pen directly at Sakura's head.

Sakura whirled around, and, on seeing Ino's utterly nonchalant expression, picked up the pen and threw it right back at her.

And so it continued. The start-of-class bell rang, and Kurenai entered the room. She struck that Kurenai-pose front-and-center and grinned that grin that let everyone _know_ that she was up to something.

Maybe not up to something. But still.

"Alright, we have less than a week to finish the movie, so make it quick to pick one. I have two – _Mean Girls_ and _BeetleJuice._ Who wants _Mean Girls?_"

_That_ was a no-brainer. _Mean Girls_ was one of the funniest movies Ino had seen – her hand shot up, along with most of the girls (and one or two of the guys) in the class. Kurenai counted – it came to twelve kids – still less than half the class.

"Beetlejuice it is," Kurenai said.

_Dammit._

Not that this would _ruin_ anything, necessarily, but _Mean Girls…_

Sakura turned around and shot her a rueful look…and tossed the pen her way.

"Sakura. Ino. Knock it off," Kurenai said. Her back was turned – there was no possible way…

Sakura turned around and shrugged, making the universal gesture for 'crazy.' Ino agreed.

She was suddenly aware of the look Gaara was giving her. "What?" she whispered. He didn't say anything, and turned his attention back to the screen.

Ino hadn't forgotten their encounter in the mall – okay, maybe she had for a little bit over the weekend, but she remembered it now and that was what mattered – she just didn't know if he meant what he said or not.

She deliberated for a while, then figured it couldn't hurt. What was he going to do, ignore her to death?

"It was good," she said quietly, as the previews started. From the corner of her eye she saw Gaara shake his head and snort.

She turned to him and gave him a _look_ that was practiced on Shikamaru and Chouji and guaranteed to get guys to talk.

He did. "Good?" he half-sneered. "You're in the honors English class and the best you can come up with is _good?_"

"_Naruto_ is in honors English," Ino felt compelled to point out. Gaara rolled his eyes, but she continued, "Fine. It wasn't just good. It was…different. New. Addictive. Inspiring. There, those words good enough for you?"

A corner of his mouth turned up. "Not at all."

"Guess you won't be satisfied that my favorite track is number two, either."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"And I bet you like number five."

Suddenly the semi-good-humor banter atmosphere was gone, and he scowled.

Ino, ignoring the sudden change of aura, grinned to herself. He probably didn't like that she, an almost-jock, semi-fast track, _blonde,_ had him figured out. "Methinks I'm right."

"Methinks," Kurenai said from the front of the room, "That everyone should shut up."

Ino did, for a while. Then the movie was ten minutes in and _what the fuck is going on?_

The words apparently hadn't stayed in her head, because to her right there was a whisper of, "You haven't seen the half of it."

"Half," Ino repeated flatly. Gaara spared her a glance that indicated he might be in pain. "Have you ever seen a Burton movie before?"

"Nightmare before Christmas doesn't count, does it."

His only response was a snort.

_Guess not,_ Ino thought, eyes straying back to the screen. By the time the period was nearly up, the dead-but-not-dead married couple was talking to some elderly woman who smoked like a chimney _and was that smoke coming out of her_ neck?

"Yes," Gaara said, not looking at her.

Ino wanted to facepalm. Admittedly, the movie wasn't bad- but it was on _crack._

The period ended, the movie was stopped with promises of tuning back to it tomorrow, and as Ino gathered her things, she said, "What was _up_ with that movie?"

Gaara spared her a glance. "And by that you mean…?"

Ino wrinkled her nose. "They had me until they stepped out of their house and a wormhole-snake thing tried to eat them."

"That's _limbo,_" he said, as if she was missing something obvious.

"Ah," she said as she left for the lunchroom, because she doubted that he'd appreciate another blank stare.

Ino had cookies on the brain when she headed to her designated table. Sakura's mom always made the _best_ sugar cookies, and Ino knew that Sakura would have them now. And they'd be really good, and Chouji and Naruto would probably get in a brawl over the last one, and –

Ino was jerked out of her thoughts by the sight that greeted her. Her lunch table normally consisted of herself, Chouji, Sakura, Naruto, Kiba, and sometimes Shikamaru (when he wasn't outside.)

Today _Sai_ of all people was sitting at the table.

Right.

In.

Her.

Spot.

Ino knew that Sakura wouldn't do that to her – invite Sai to sit with them – but she also knew that Sakura wasn't going to tell Sai to beat it. After all, she was good friends with him, as was Naruto; but still, Ino did _not_ want to approach that table.

So, naturally, she turned on her heel and left the lunchroom, cookies be damned. She was _so_ not ready to face him. It wasn't like he hurt her, or anything – she was just so freaking uncomfortable around him that it wasn't even funny.

_Freaking seriously? _

Cookies be damned. She wasn't sitting anywhere _near_ him. She'd check in, later – maybe he'd be gone, though she doubted it. Sai had about as many social skills as a chimpanzee. And even then, a smart chimp was more pleasant.

She did have other circles of friends who she could sit with, sure – but, as it was, there was only one particular group who had her lunch, and they were quite gossipy; the last thing Ino needed were rumors being spread of her and Sakura being pissed at each other.

_Not after what happened with Sasuke._

There was, however, one particular place where she could go and remain unnoticed – the room didn't really have a name. It was partially storage, partially janitor's closet, partially a Room of Requirement (or so her inner Harry Potter Nerd liked to think).

It was also perfect for not being seen during a free period – or in this case, lunch.

Ino shut the door behind her, stopping it with a block of wood before it closed completely. She smirked triumphantly to herself (for no apparent reason) and sat down on an upturned crate. She set her backpack down and began eating her sandwich, iPod jacked up to max volume.

And, because she was entirely alone, after some minutes, she began to sing.

It was part loud/obnoxious, as one cannot resist when one is alone, and part half-decent, because her voice wasn't _that_ bad. She'd actually been told that it was good – hell is she knew. She didn't have a career as a singer, anyway.

She just liked her music.

"_No I'm not saaaayin, I'm soorrrry, one day, maybe we'll meet – again. No no no NO!" _

Suddenly, Ino was staring at black pants with lots of chains and black boots with lots of buckles.

_A demon in my view…_ Ino almost giggled aloud at the comparison – even if the demon in question was giving her a Look.

Abruptly, Ino was pulled from her fantasy world of stages and bright lights. She stood, knocking the crate over in the process. She was painfully aware that her hair was in utter disarray – such were the dangers of headbanging, it seemed.

She jerked the ear buds out, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Can I help you?" she said, a little more barbed than she intended but _whatever._ He had caught her (essentially) having a private jam session in the janitor's closet/Room of Requirement/storage room. Awkwardness gave her a right to grow fangs.

For a moment, Gaara said nothing; then, "What are you hiding from?"

"Hiding?" Ino spluttered. She had to regain her cool – the calm, collected Ino had disappeared, and now hyper, rockerchick Ino had taken her place. "I'm not hi – you know, I could ask you the same."

_Ha!_ Score for her. She arched an eyebrow, poked him on the chest. "So?"

He looked down at where she touched him like it might be diseased. "You think I'm," he said flatly, "Hiding."

"If the shoe fits," she said with a shrug. "You know, randomly chilling in a storeroom can suggest that. Unless," and here her eyes took on a mischievous glint, "You're stalking me."

He snorted. "Please, Yamanaka. As if I have nothing better to do than follow _you_ around?"

"Well, good. I'd be concerned if you did."

He made a noncommittal noise. There was a beat of silence, then, "So…what are you doing in here, anyway?"

Gaara regarded her for a moment. "I was in the back and heard a noise. Turned out to be you."

_Oh._ "Yeah, my beautiful singing voice," Ino said with a grin.

"A siren's call," he answered. The sarcasm wasn't lost on Ino – whatever a 'siren' was. Maybe she'd Google it, if she remembered.

"Naturally," Ino said, because it was quiet and the void needed to be filled. Gaara didn't respond, so she took out her iPod again and sat back down – this time on an old table. She was about eye level with Gaara, now.

"What _were_ you singing?" Gaara asked, leaning against a stack of boxes.

She arched an eyebrow. _What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?_ "Closer to the Edge. You know. Spades."

"Album or demo?"

"Demo. It's always better," she answered. Gaara made a noncommittal noise. "You sure about that?"

Ino faltered. _What's he getting at?_ "Well…ah, I think so."

Gaara _hned._ "Though there's not much of a difference for that song."

"Implying that there's more of a difference with other songs?" Ino asked, genuinely curious.

Gaara almost sighed. "Yes."

"Oh – " Ino was cut off from responding by her phone. She fished it out of her pocket. Sakura had sent her a text – _Sai's gone. Come back to eat? _

"You don't like Sai," Gaara stated. Ino looked up, glaring. He was leaning forward, smirking arrogantly – she kept glaring. "Invasion of personal privacy, much?"

"Call it payback," he said, leaning back against the boxes.

"For what?"

He gave her a Look. "For going through my sketchbook."

"That's – " Ino began.

"It's the same thing and you know it."

Ino was just able to repress the _ugh!_ that was welling up inside her. Only _just._

She settled for hopping off the table and picking up her backpack. "On that note," she said, "I bid thee adieu." And she started for the door.

She went to open it – and discovered that she couldn't. _Aw, fuck._

"Uh, Gaara?" she asked, trying and failing to open the door. "Are we, like, locked in here?"

Gaara appeared beside her. "No, Blondie. You're twisting it the wrong way. Here." In one smooth motion, he flicked her hand off the door knob and twisted it to the left.

"Oh," she said, cheeks going red from embarrassment. _Way to be smart, Ino. _She covered it up by adjusting her backpack strap on the way out the door.

Ten steps later, embarrassment and Gaara were off her mind completely. _Cookies_ were waiting for her.

_Hell, yeah._

x.x.x

**Don't own "Closer to the Edge." That's 30 Seconds to Mars. And as far as I know, there is no demo of that particular song. Just added that for conversation! **

**I also don't own any of the movies mentioned. ^_^ **

**BTW. There is a poll in the profile, check it out if it pleases you. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	8. VIII

**Oh, dear Gravity. I totally didn't realize that a crucial three sentences regarding the Ino/Sai thing weren't typed –probably a 'it's already in my head why do I need to say it again' thing. I apologize. All is explained here – more or less. T'will be touched upon later as well. *headdesk* This Author apologizes for having scatterbrained Muses.**

**Oh, and the aisle/isle thing shall be fixed momentarily. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

"This is getting stranger and stranger," Ino muttered. Next to her, Gaara snorted. "You haven't seen strange."

"_Phantom_ is pretty twisted. This is just on crack."

Gaara stared at her blankly. It translated as _'what?'_ and meant that he was at a loss.

But he was Gaara, so he'd never actually _say_ anything.

"You know," Ino whispered. "_Phantom of the Opera._ The musical? Guy with a half-mask. Gerard Butler with some sunburn. Angel of music -?"

"Sounds like some stupid play production aimed at saps."

"Yeah, that's pretty much the definition of Broadway," Ino deadpanned. "But the point was, the whole Phantom and Christine thing is twisted. This? Pure mindfuckery."

"That's the definition of a Burton movie," Gaara said flatly.

Ino snorted. Leave it to a guy in black to denounce one of the greatest musicals of all time. Shikamaru had said the same thing, until he gave under her nagging to watch it (because listening to her nag was troublesome) and he had admitted that it was good. (And, troublesome as it might be, he wouldn't agree with her for the sake of agreeing with her. Well, maybe he would. But he had gone to the trouble of going to the store and getting the soundtrack, so that had to mean something.)

The movie ended about thirty seconds before the bell rang. Ino slung her pack over her shoulder, and as she made to go, Gaara asked, "What's so 'twisted' about it?"

Ino turned. "Watch it and let me know." She threw the words over her shoulder and then continued walking to her locker.

_When did you get so smooth?_

Psssh. She'd _always_ been smooth….even if she _did_ almost just hit herself on the forehead with the damn locker.

Lunch held the typical hype of students excited for the break – everyone talked about plans and presents and that new movie that was coming out and how break was going to be awesomesauce.

"Glad to see you're joining us," Tenten nudged Ino.

"Uhh…." Ino stared at the girl uncomprehendingly, cookie halfway to her mouth. "Sorry, what?"

"You kinda went AWOL yesterday," Sakura put in with a laugh. "Remember?"

"Oh," Ino said blandly. "Yeah. Sorry – I got caught up between classes."

Tenten bought it, but Sakura didn't – she knew that Ino had been absent because she hadn't wanted to face Sai. Ino had made the mistake (_stupid, stupid, stupid)_ of dating him previously in the year.

Bad. Idea. That guy had absolutely no filter between his brain and words – which wouldn't be a problem, usually, because Ino was frank herself – but he didn't know where to cut it. On top of that, he really was a douche. She was over him –totally – but she didn't want to face him. Boys had a way of being pushy like that.

_It's pathetic,_ she admitted to herself. She was Ino Yamanaka, dammit! She walked all over boy's hearts in stiletto heels.

Then again, Sai wasn't a typical boy. Hell, he wasn't even very _human._

_Whatever. Soon enough, this will all be over. He'll forget, I'll become less awkward, and maybe pigs will fly. _Break couldn't come quick enough.

"Hey," Sakura poked Ino. "We still on for tomorrow?"

Ino grinned. "You bet."

Break could _not_ come quick enough.

x.x.x

Ino was _late. _So late.

Her eighth-period class was at the north wing, third floor of her school. Her locker was on the first floor, north wing, and the exit she'd go through to catch her bus was on the ground floor, south wing.

Normally, she'd have more than enough time. But because today was the day before a holiday, the busses were coming right after school (as opposed to twenty minutes after.) Normally, the busses weren't on time and Ino wouldn't have to rush – but she had gotten caught up in eighth period, desperately asking her maths teacher about extra credit –

-and she was running_ so late._

The halls were largely empty – like anyone wanted to hang around school on the day before break – so Ino had no qualms about making a mad dash down three flights of stairs, skidding to a halt at her locker, frantically opening it (because the lock was broken…she really needed to fix that) and exchanging books for books, slamming it shut, spinning around, making another mad dash and –

-and running straight into a very solid something, apparently.

She hadn't bothered to shove anything into her backpack, so her books went one way, her folder went another, and the papers that had been inside the folder scattered about her.

"Shit," she muttered, gathering her papers. "Sorry – Gaara."

_Great. I'm a freaking mess, running into _him_ again, and late. As. Fuck. Lovely. Just. Lovely._

Gaara made a noncommittal sound –actually, she wasn't sure if he said anything at all. She sort of had more important things to worry about at the moment that had nothing to do with translating Goth into English.

When she looked up from cramming her papers into the folder, she was surprised to see Gaara kneeling down, proffering her books to her.

She was thrown off guard, but she didn't let it show. "Thanks," she said, standing. "You taking the bus? Did it leave yet?"

He blinked at her. _God, it wasn't a hard question. Yes or no. Simple as that._ Was it her, or did boys always take too long to answer the simplest questions?

"I haven't checked yet," Gaara said, after what was probably normal-people time but ten minutes in Ino-time. She nodded, and began walking. "But you should probably hurry."

_Right. So much for speeding down the hallways. _

She and Gaara continued down the hallway in silence. Ino was actually allowing herself to believe that she could make the bus – after all, it was only two fifteen, and it was snowing outside. That meant delayed traffic, right?

Wrong, apparently. When she and Gaara exited the building, the last of the busses was pulling out of the school parking lot…which was a grand total of 200 yards away.

_F.M.L._

The only thing keeping her from shrieking obscenities to the heavens was the presence of Gaara. And even then, a rather shrill, strangled _shit_ escaped.

Gaara must've sensed her misery, because, being the sick fuck that he was, he _looked amused._

She glared at him, daring him to say something. _Just try me, Gothboy. Just. Try._

"Better start walking," he remarked. "It looks like it's going to snow."

And with that, he headed down the steps. Ino was left standing, still recovering from the shock of _the fucking bus left. And no one gets home till six. WTF. _

She jerked herself out of her thoughts, scrambled down and half-followed, half-walked with him. They continued on in silence until they reached the school parking lot exit; to the right was a brief section of woods, then a highway; to the left was the route that would take them to the residential area.

Gaara turned right.

"Where are you going? You live in Suna, right?" He was on her bus; he _had_ to live in the Suna neighborhood. Briefly, she wondered why she was even walking with him – associating with him outside of being with Sakura who was usually with Naruto would cause unneeded rumors if anyone saw.

He stopped and turned to look at her. "Shortcut, Blondie. Go through instead of around. It's faster."

"Is it now…gingie?" Ino said, nonetheless following him. He shot her a glare over his shoulder. "Burgundy. My hair is _burgundy._"

"Which is red, which is redhead, which implies…ginger." Ino grinned. It was hard to get a rise – or any kind of reaction, for that matter – out of him, but when he was irritated…

It was so goddamn amusing.

"'Red' and 'ginger' are two different things," he scowled. "Learn colors."

"You know what that sounds like? A ginger in denial."

"Watch it…" he growled. Ino smirked.

"Whatever you say…Gingie."

She wasn't prepared when he yanked the strap on her backpack down – she stumbled and almost fell. He continued walking as if nothing had happened.

"Hey! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with a girl?"

"I was told not to hurt a lady. As there are none present…" he trailed off and shot her a small smirk over his shoulder.

Ino narrowed her eyes. She couldn't tell if this was friendly abuse or if she had pushed him too far. She and Sakura abused each other all the time – but friends were allowed to do that. Seeing that Gaara wasn't particularly friendly, it was probably the latter.

She rolled her eyes and continued to follow him, this time in a stony silence. He led her across a field – the ground was hard and covered with frost, grass dead and wildlife silent – and through a stretch of woods. She could hear the highway off in a distance and –

_Oh, god. I'm alone. With Gaara. In a woods. No one's around. I just pissed him off. He's known to be unstable and is arguably psychosocial. ohshitohshiohshitOHSHIT –_

"Hold on."

Ino blinked away the nightmares (daymares?) of being slaughtered and left for carrion to find Gaara herself staring at Gaara's back. The trees had thinned and they were almost to the highway. "Huh?"

"You have to time it right. Two steps forward and that's it."

She did as instructed – best not to piss off a possible killer – and gaped when she got her first good look at the street.

Ino hadn't known what highway Gaara was talking about, but certainly not _this._ Red Lion Road was the widest, busiest highway in the area – three lands going in either direction with a small stretch of grass in the middle.

_How the hell does he expect to make that?_

"Now." And he walked – quickly – out onto the street. Ino scrambled to follow him, nearly running. There was a lull, but that car was coming and –

"Watch it," he said lowly as she bumped into him. "Sorry," she muttered. They were on the strip of grass, cars whizzing pass on either side of them.

"Stay with me, Blondie…_now."_ And out into the traffic they ran.

Safely on the other side, Ino stopped to catch her breath. _Fun. Just flippin' dandy._ But they _were_ in the back of the development – and it _had_ been a shortcut. They continued on in silence, then Gaara said, "My idiot brother managed to get hit by a car doing that."

_O-kay._ Was Gaara actually making conversation? Was the world coming to an end? "Doing what?"

"Crossing the road."

"…So, naturally, you continue to cross the same road and bring innocent young females along with you?"

"Only so they trust me. Then I lure them to my lair and smote their immortal soul."

Ino wasn't sure whether he was being serious or joking; in the time it took her to formulate a response, he snorted. "It's a joke, Blondie. Kid-ding."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, it's hard to tell when someone's deadpanning when their default voice is a monotone. You might learn a thing or two by joining the Forensics team."

He was silent.

"Or, you know, continuing to confuse people. That works too."

He offered no answer.

_Awk-ward._ They continued in an uncomfortable silence; the don't-fuck-with-me waves were back, and something about the set of his shoulders made him appear uncomfortable. Then Ino had to turn down her street. "See you," she said. If he answered, she didn't hear it.

Break had officially begun – she had more important things to worry about than Goth Boy and his mood swings.

_Now…I wonder where they're hiding my Christmas presents._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**So, whatchya think? I don't own Naruto, **_**BettleJuice, Phantom of the Opera, **_**or anything else mentioned. **

**Poll. You know the drill. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	9. IX

**Pot calling Kettle 9**

**I probably should apologize for lack up updates. Lame excuse #1 would be the Class From Hell known as Chemistry, and Lame Excuse #2 would be I Suck at Time Management and Cannot Schedule Shit For My Life. **

**Minor spoilers for **_**The Little Prince **_**within. **

**You reviewers rock hardcore ;) **

**Don't own Naruto, Don't own Little Prince, Doctor Who, Disney, Zelda, or Pokémon. **

Ino was a closet nerd. Of course, some aspects of said nerdiness were not so closeted – old school Disney obsession, (most of her) music taste, and crush on the tenth Doctor.

However, there was one thing in particular that had piqued her interest, and she was determined to explore it: the world of Nevermore. It was a pseudo-comic (_graphic novel)_ that followed three characters, and it was apparently amazing and based loosely around some of Edgar Allen Poe's work, which might be a _little_ concerning if she was afraid of death and mindfuckery. As it was, she wasn't.

So, because of her morbid obsession with a not-quite comic book, and because she didn't want her inner geek to become her outer geek, she went with her mom to the mall under the pretense that she was Christmas shopping.

Her mother was looking more tired these days. She wasn't as short-tempered; really, Ino preferred the shortness. Now she was just really sad a lot, and Ino heard her crying when she thought no one was around. It was depressing – it was almost _Christmas,_ for chrissake! _Happy_ times.

Ino sighed and shook her head. No matter. Her mother would liven up – she'd see the rest of the extended family, and there'd be food and stuff, and no one would be sad for long.

She told her mother that'd she meet her in the food court in thirty minutes; with that, Ino was off to the book store. It wasn't one of those book stores that you read about, with tall shelves and narrow aisles and odd, yet kindly old men owning them. This was a commercial book store, but Ino didn't mind. It sold books by the thousands, and that was all Ino needed.

Ino went to the comic section and crouched down. She scanned the titles – there! She pulled out the 'director's cut' version, sat back, and opened it. It was close to two inches thick, and was unusual insofar as there were paragraphs and panels – it was like it couldn't decide which it wanted to be.

Because it was a Thursday, and because it was a commercial bookstore, no one cared that Ino plopped herself down on the one side of the aisle and began reading.

It was ten or so minutes into her reading that Ino began to notice that someone was looking at her. It wasn't like she was being stalked, no; however, she most definitely _felt_ eyes on her, and she most definitely didn't like it.

But like _hell_ was she going to let whoever was looking at her know that she was disturbed. No, instead she just glanced out of the corner of her eye – she could see black pants and the glint of silver and black boots with buckles, buckles, buckles. Oh, she was _so not_ getting leered at by some Goth kid.

"Take a picture," she said without looking up. "It lasts longer."

"Hn." The person – it was probably male, but Ino was just going by noncommittal noises here – took a step forward and squatted near her. "Wouldn't pin you for a _Nevermore_ fan."

Gaara. Some of the hostility melted away, only to be replaced with a surge of indignation.

"Just once," she said, marking her page and setting the book down, "Please, just try to start a conversation without a challenge. And, case in point, I wouldn't pin you for a _Little Prince_ fan, either."

He blinked, and glanced down at his shirt. There was a picture of a rose, with the words "_She was such a proud flower,"_ written below it.

"I'm not. This is Naruto's, and I'm pretty sure it's some kind of band logo."

Ino's eyebrows rose. "You mean you've never read it? You mean to tell me that you've spent some ten or so odd years with the ability to read, and you've never read _The Little Prince?_ We're in a bookstore; this is going to get fixed." She was in the middle of standing up when he grabbed her wrist and jerked her back down none too lightly.

"Hey –!"

Gaara, however, was stoic as ever. "I never said that I didn't _read_ the book. I said I wasn't a fan. Frankly, the book's stupid and idealistic and pointless."

_Why don't you tell us how you _really _feel?_ "It's the meaning of life on a second-grade reading level! Simplistic and profound and probably one of the best things ever published."

Gaara rolled his eyes. "The Prince is an idiot."

"_You're_ an idiot."

"Duly noted."

"…Seriously, what's _wrong_ with you?"

"Talk to the guidance counselor. She'll tell you."

"I ate her carcass the other day. Sorry."

"So what, Blondie's into vo -?"

"Finish that sentence, Gothboy, and I will string you up by your intestines and make you eat your own liver."

A corner of his mouth twitched. "Have fun trying."

Ino grinned. "Believe me, I will." She was about to go back to her book (or at least try to keep the conversation going) when she suddenly remembered the other reason she'd come to the mall. "Hey, off the top of your head, do you know where the video game store is?" it was a huge mall – Ino couldn't remember where it was, and the directories always managed to confuse her more than help.

"Second floor, other side of the building."

"Oh, good. My brother found his old Game Boy and I'd figured he'd like an oldschool Pokémon game." She stood and slipped the comic back on the shelf. She'd buy it later – if there was one thing Ino despised, it was walking around the mall with numerous bags.

To her surprise, Gaara stood as well. She decided not to question it – the easier decision when dealing with him.

Walking next to him, she was acutely aware of what a motley crew the two of them were – practically a stark contrast. Most people paid them no heed – they had more important things to do – but when people did stare, their eyes would first go to Gaara, take in the black and the chains and the makeup, and then their gaze would flit to her, and they'd get a look like _WTF?_

But they arrived at the store soon enough, and it took some serious willpower on Ino's part to not start squeezing over the new Legend of Zelda game –but she was in public, so that _so_ was not going to happen. She'd just mentally add it to her wish list.

A teenage guy with messy brown hair and gauges greeted them. "Looking for anything?" He was cute, Ino figured, in that pseudo-punk, sort-of-emo way, with the self-deprecating smile and sper-long eyelashes. How the hell did boys get the good eyelashes, anyway? It made no sense. At all.

"Yeah. Where do you keep the GBA games?"

"Behind the counter – here, I'll get it. Anything specific?"

Ino nodded. "Pokémon games. My brother's obsessed – figure it's a good Christmas present."

He laughed as he placed several games on the counter. "See, if every sister was like you, the world would be a better place."

She grinned. "Tell him that for me, would you? Here, I'll take this one." Ino gestured to the red game. Dei's second favorite color was red, and that was really all Ino was going on.

"Ruby! Excellent choice. I preferred Sapphire myself, but I have a thing against fire-types."

Something must've shown on Ino's face, because he laughed. "What am I saying? Pretty girl like you isn't gonna be into games like that. My bad."

Ino felt her cheeks go red, and she was pretty sure that Gaara had just snorted. She'd have to elbow him for that later. "Yeah, well, I'm more of a Zelda person."

"Ah," he said, ringing up the purchase. Ino paid him, took the bag, and left.

As they were leaving, when the guy might've been in earshot, Gaara asked (and rather loudly, too,), "Do you get hit on _everywhere_ you go?"

"You get weird looks. It cancels out."

"How do you know these people aren't staring at _you."_

Ino sighed. "I am not dressed in bondage pants and a shredded shirt. Case closed."

"Bondage," he repeated flatly.

"That's what you call them, right? My brother used to wear them. Called them his kinky pants, or something." Somehow, Ino managed to say that with a straight face.

Gaara made a strangled sound that might've been a laugh. She saw the look on his face and grinned. "I wish I was joking."

"At least he doesn't play with dolls."

"…_what?"_

"My brother. Calls them puppets. Dresses them up and everything." He shook his head. "And people think _I'm_ the one with the sick fetishes."

"Because you've totally led us to believe otherwise. Seriously, freshman year, I thought you were going to set off a bomb, or something."

Ino instantly regretted it – you don't just _say_ that to someone – she really was too familiar with him, oh god, this was bad –

"Fair enough. I thought you were a twenty dollar whore, so…"

And any regret instantly melted away. Ino, however, swallowed her indignation. "Fair enough."

She was saved from the inevitable awkward silence when her mother spotted her.

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire…lovely…_

"Ino," her mother greeted. "Who's…this?" her smile was stretched too tight and it promised a Lecture in the foreseeable future – one about Satanism and Columbine and _are you depressed, honey?_

"Oh, this is Gaara. He's –" what was Gaara to her, again? –"A friend from school."

"Oh. Hello," her mother said. "Ino, meet me in the car in ten minutes, okay?" With a last nod at Gaara, she walked off, arms full of shopping bags.

"Don't mind her," Ino muttered, bracing herself for some sort of conceding look, "She's just stressed."

Gaara _hned_ and shoved his hands in his pockets. _Who am I kidding? He doesn't give a shit either way. Remember?_

But still, she felt the need to say something. "Hey, have you seen _Phantom_ yet?"

Gaara gave her a Look. "You're not going to give up on it, are you?"

Ino grinned. "Nope! Okay, meet me back here…Saturday. Alright? Here," she rummaged through her purse and pulled out a pen. She grabbed his hand and wrote her number on his palm. "Text me if you can't make it. Be there around….noon. You're going to see it if it kills you." Resisting the urge to add girlish doodles around the number, Ino pocketed the pen. "See you!"

And she made her way to the bookstore, feeling lighter than air for some reason or another.

_Now, to get that book…._

**I own nothing. This is kinda short, but there will be more soon, I promise. More, ah, plot-driven stuff **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	10. X

**Where to begin? I'm sorry for lack of updates. Shit happens, hits the fan, and then sprays over everyone. Just the lovely things you have to deal with when you leave the interweb and face the real world, which by the way, sucks. Like a bitch. In heels. **

**But I digress.**

* * *

They had been sitting in the internet café for almost two hours. _Phantom_ played on the computer screen, and Ino's long-abandoned, now-lukewarm coffee sat abandoned next to her.

As the movie ended and the credits began rolling, Ino watched Gaara's reaction out of the corner of her eye. She had been surprised that he'd even shown up – when she strolled into the internet café at twelve-oh-six, he hadn't been there. _Well, why would he? Jeez, why'd I even tell him to come again? What if someone _sees_ us? What if they think we're_ dating?

But when she turned around, coffee in hand, Gaara had materialized into a seat in all his dreary glory, looking thoroughly bored.

_I'd _love_ to know how he does that…_

But she'd sat next to him anyway.

Presently, Gaara was frowning at the screen. "So…" Ino said, poking him on the forehead.

"So what?"

"So what do you think? C'mon, _adjectives._" She grinned. "Creepy, right?"

"Creepy," he said flatly, "Is not a word I'd use."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I mean, it's not like Stephen King or anything, but the Phantom and his creepy obsession with Christine? Did you _see_ his underground lair?"

"I did. 'Creepy' just isn't the word I'd use."

Ino exhaled. _He just has to be difficult. _"Well then, what _would_ you say?"

Gaara was quiet for a minute; Ino waited, because he did that a lot. He'd respond, yeah, but he'd have to be given time to articulate his thoughts. Shikamaru was like that sometimes; she'd grown used to waiting for an answer from boys.

"Disconcerting, maybe. Or tainted." Gaara shrugged. "Maybe addicted. Christine was his drug, and he loved her like an addict. It's much more…interesting then the other guy."

"You mean Raoul?"

Gaara nodded. "It's…dynamic. Once you get over the frilly, sappy, girly shit." He gave her a sidelong glance and a corner of this mouth tugged up.

"Hey! I happen to _like_ the frilly, sappy, girly shit." Ino huffed. But, she couldn't _honestly_ expect him to get that, could she? He was a boy, after all.

And it is a truth universally acknowledged that boys were stupid.

x.x.x

Ino checked herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time that day. She looked nice, sure, but she needed to look_ right._ Deidara was bringing home his girlfriend today and –

_Crap._ The door opened, and they were coming in, and _was that a zit trying to grow on her forehead?_

"Ino!" Her mother was calling, "Come down!"

Ino scowled into her reflection – more specifically at her forehead – before yelling a "Coming!" and heading downstairs.

Ino had heard about the girl – Anko, her name was – but she wasn't sure what to expect. Deidara told her about the girl before – and Ino distinctly remembered him saying something regarding, 'bonding over how to blow shit up, hm.'

She really couldn't be blamed for being skeptical.

The first thing Ino noticed about the girl standing next to Dei was her purple hair, pulled up into a short, high ponytail. The next was that she was short, and dressed like – well, like a vintage thrift store from the 80s threw up on her.

But Ino would be pleasant; not everyone had her fashion sense, after all.

"Hey!" she said, smiling. Deidara turned around, Anko following suit. "Ino," he said, "This is Anko. My girlfriend."

In the following hour, Ino learned quite a few things, among them:

Anko was loud, hyper, and talkative. _Very_ talkative.

She and Deidara were a perfect storm: she was studying pyrotechnic chemistry, he was an artist with a penchant for explosions. Ino supposed that this was pyromania love at its finest.

Anko was...strange. _Very_ strange. She used words like kleptomaniac and sassafras and syringe and had a thing for horror flicks. She dyed her hair purple recently, and was debating on whether or not to go back to orange.

During dinner, Ino watched her parent's reaction. Her father was warming up to Anko, it seemed – she was sarcastic and self-depreciating and poked fun at Deidara – and her mother was…_tolerating_ the girl. The woman was quiet, and stiff, and Ino wondered if Dei noticed that their parents weren't talking to each other.

When Deidara left to drive Anko home, Ino's father turned to her. "He's got his hands full, eh?"

Ino's grinned. "I'm worried for everyone around them. Seriously. Someone's gonna get hurt…"

"I don't know what he sees in her," Ino's mother said flatly before turning on her heel and walking stiffly back to the kitchen.

Ino and her father exchanged a look. "I don't know what her _problem _is," he said to her, just loud enough for her mother to hear.

_Uh-oh. Time to split._

Ino was up the stairs and in her room just as the argument started. She sighed and flopped down on her bed. The day had been going so well, too…

She sighed again and reached for her phone. Well, Sakura probably wasn't doing anything, now, and Ino had promised to tell her how the 'dinner with Deidara's new girlfriend' went…

Sakura answered on the fifth ring. "What's up, Pig?"

"Nothing," Ino said, staring at her ceiling. "Dei's girlfriend came over, and you would _not _believe some of the things she said. Seriously, Forehead, you'd love this. Bounce down to Ringleader's?"

"Can't," Sakura said. "I'm about to go out with Naruto…sorry." She sounded truly regretful. "Tomorrow?"

Ino bit her lip. "Yeah. Tomorrow's good. Text it, Forehead."

"Will do."

"Have fun! Tootles!"

Ino hung up and exhaled. It was frustrating when your best friend had a boyfriend and you were single.

_Very_ frustrating.

Sometime before midnight (but long after her parents had settled into a stony silence), Ino's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and grinned.

"Sup?" she answered.

Deidara grunted. "Tell me now what they think."

Ino grinned. "We – ell, Dad likes her."

"Yeah, and Mom?"

Ino clicked her tongue. "Just accept that nothing any of us ever do will ever be enough for her."

"Right, hm," he answered after a brief pause. "And you, hm? What's _your_ verdict?"

"She seems…quirky. Maybe she'll be good for you, keeping you all on your toes. And need I go off about how precious you two look standing next to each other?" Ino laughed. "Seriously. Pictures must be taken, and then uploaded onto the internet."

Deidara sighed. Static crackled over the phone. "I swear, how the hell are we relate –"

"It's snowing!" Ino cut him off. She sat up straight and rushed to her window. "Oh, my god. Dei!"

Her brother snorted. "You're such a little kid. Seriously, are you sixteen or six?"

"Six and a _half,_" Ino protested. "And c'mon, it hasn't snowed since – "

"This time last year? Yeah, that's about right, hm. They're called _seasons._ They change."

"Oh, go to hell," Ino told him, sitting back down. "_Some_ of us like the little things."

"You really _are_ bored, huh."

"…Yes."

And so their conversation continued until Ino couldn't keep her eyes open. She fell asleep with her phone in her hand, and snow continued to fall outside.

* * *

**Well. No much happens. This is kinda short. :/ Sorry, guys. But I figured I might as well put this out there to set the stage whilst I think of what's gonna go down in later chapters. I have an idea, but…**

**Blame the right-brain. I'm not much of a planner ;D **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	11. XI

**Pot Calling Kettle 11**

**Alright, kiddies. So, some of you lovely people pointed out that Anko had already been the English teacher – and, guess which scatterbrained author **_**totally forgot?**_

**This one. So, I've gone back and edited – the English teacher is now Kurenai, Anko is still Deidara's girlfriend. Oh, dear. I need to get more on top of things. XD If there is any confusion, let me know and I'll try and clear things up ^_^;;**

**.**

Ino wrapped her hands around the Styrofoam coffee cup. She sat across from Sakura in the café, nose and cheeks pink from the cold outside. She had _so_ not been anticipating the half a foot of snow – and it was piling up quick.

Sakura wrinkled her nose. "You're kidding, right?"

Ino shook her head. "Wish I was. Seriously, if Naruto was a chick – an extremely crude chick – it would be her."

Sakura look scandalized. "Please. Mental image I _don't_ want."

Ino grinned. Then she thought about Naruto as a girl...and mentally cringed. "Yeah, I'm gonna need some brain bleach too. Don't get me wrong – Anko was really nice. I think. It's just…weird, you know? Everyone's getting together with everyone all of a sudden."

Sakura _mhmed._ "Except Neji and Tenten."

Ino snorted. "At this rate, I'm gonna owe Shikamaru twenty bucks."

"Not that you'll ever admit that to him," Sakura said with a grin.

Ino sniffed. "Women's intuition is never wrong. Well, it is, I just can't tell _him_ that."

Sakura laughed. "Naturally."

Ino sipped her coffee as they talked. "Hey, you're still coming Friday, right?" Friday would be a huge family two-days-after-Christmas party at Ino's aunt's house, and, in the true best friend fashion, Sakura would be expected to attend.

Sakura nodded. "God forbid you should go alone."

Yes. Heaven and hell both forbid it. Ino's family was, in a word, _crazy. _Firstly, it was like they were singlehandedly trying to repopulate the human race. There was a huge brood of cousins, ranging from five to thirty years old. Secondly, there was alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Her one uncle sampled everything from cheap beer to whiskey to sake and everything in between, and her one aunt would have more wine than blood in her system by the time dinner was over. Things got more than a little chaotic, and on top of it all Ino had one female cousin her own age.

And she was a total bitch.

Sure, there were others – but none that she got along with too well. She _used_ to be tight with Yuki, before he went off to college and decided to not shower, not shave his face, and smoke like a chimney. He was still a sweet-but-crude guy…but he smelled so _bad._

"Well, I need _someone_ there to witness the madness." Ino winked. "And you know, Kyo's been asking about you."

Sakura shuddered. "Well, at least I'm taken now..."

Kyo. Her fifteen year old cousin who decided that he had a crush on Sakura. It would be cute, maybe, if it wasn't so _creepy._ Hopefully he'd mellowed out, or something, because if he followed them around like a lost puppy _again…_because something in Ino doubted that _Naruto_ made any threat at all.

"Hey! Sakura! Ino!"

Speak of the devil.

Naruto was walking towards them, sporting a grin too big for his face and an orange jacket too bright to look at.

"Hey," Sakura said, smiling and gesturing for him to sit. He slid in next to her. "What's up?"

"The usual," Sakura said. "And what brings you here this fine Monday?"

"I'm _supposed_ to meet Gaara here, but he's late. Seriously, be grateful your friends are on _time._"

"That's because you always sleep in."

Ino didn't have to turn to know that it was Gaara. Naruto rolled his eyes. "Well the _one_ day I actually make it on time, _you're_ late!" he stood and pointed a finger at Gaara. "So that means -!"

"That the world just might be ending," Gaara cut him off. "I'm getting coffee."

Naruto made a face, but nonetheless hopped up. "Hot chocolate! Be right back!" he directed the last part at the girls, then ran up with Gaara.

Ino shook her head. "How you two wound up together is beyond me."

Sakura _tsked_ at her friend. "One day, you will understand, young grasshopper."

Ino rolled her eyes. "Riiiight."

Naruto and Gaara returned and sat. Naruto wrinkled his nose. "How the _hell_ do you guys do it?"

Ino frowned, and Sakura asked, "Do what?"

"Drink it."

"You mean coffee?" Ino asked, taking a sip of her peppermint-mocha.

Naruto nodded. "I don't get it."

Gaara sighed. "You don't get a lot of things."

"But it's so _bitter._ And _nasty._" He shook his head. "How can something that smells so good taste so _bad?"_

"Like cologne." Sakura grinned. "What? _Someone_," at this she nudged Ino, "Sprayed it in my face. I know firsthand what it tastes like. And it's not good."

They sat there for about a half hour, sipping their coffee. When they finally left, it was to make their way to the main street – Sakura still had to go Christmas shopping for her mom, and what would be a better place to look than the vintage shops that lined the road?

They walked on the sidewalk. It started out as one big group, then Sakura and Naruto merged in the front, and Ino was left next to Gaara behind them. It wasn't as awkward as it could have been – Ino supposed that she and Gaara were sort of friends now. It was weird, if she thought about it; she tried not to think about it.

"Aren't you freezing?" Ino asked him. It was a neutral enough conversation starter, and seriously? The poor boy was wearing a thin hoodie with holes torn in for the thumbs. He _had_ to be cold.

Gaara looked down at her. "Not really."

"Must be because you're a ginger."

Gaara made a noise. "We've been over this. I. Am not. A ginger. This is _dyed,_ Blondie, _dyed._ Maroon. Dark red. Crimson. _Not_ a bastardized shade of orange."

Ino grinned to herself. "Touchy, aren't we?"

Gaara scowled, and shoved her into a pile of snow. He casually continued walking as she fell and – _shit._ It got into her boots.

And it was _cold._

"Oh, he is _so_ dead," she grit as she picked herself up. She scooped up a pile of snow in her gloved hand, and, sneakily as she could, went up behind him and dumped it down his collar.

Gaara jumped. "Motherfucker –" he tried (and failed) to get the ice out of his shirt, but only succeeded in making it fall down his back.

Ino skipped past him innocently to join Sakura. "Gosh, that's unfortunate," she simpered as she caught is look.

She totally wasn't expecting the snowball to catch her right in the back. She gave a little yelp, and Sakura turned. "Oh!"

"That's…awfully unfortunate," Gaara snickered. Ino retaliated, but missed. Sakura had her back though, and nailed Gaara right in the face.

The girls high-fived. Their victory was short-lived, however, as Naruto threw a snowball at Gaara…

…and completely missed, instead hitting Sakura.

Ino facepalmed. It was only a matter of time before that boy signed his own death contract.

"_Nar-u-to!"_

x.x.x

Ino could only wonder why Gaara had called _her_ of all people. She didn't protest, though, and met him at the coffee shop like he asked. She had been running late – he'd caught her in full-out chill mode, complete in sweats and sans makeup. Ino had rushed as best she could, but there was still _so much snow._

She arrived ten minutes late. He was sitting at a table already, looking a little agitated.

_Proceed with caution._

Ino sat. "What's up?"

"I need to get my sister something."

_And you needed me to come here to tell me this. _But she said, "Oh?"

"What do I get her?"

Ino was sort of taken aback by his question, but she grinned. She _loved_ giving gift- advice – or any advice for that matter. "Well, how old is she?"

"She's nineteen."

Nineteen. Ino could work with that. "What does she like? Make-up? Flowers? Jewelry? Fuzzy socks?"

Gaara gave her a look. "She hates all of those things. Except maybe the socks."

_Of course she'd be difficult. She's related to Gaara. _"O-kaaay," Ino drawled. "Does she like to read? Getting your sister clothes is awkward, but gift cards are always good – safe, you know? But awfully _boring._"

"She reads. A lot." Gaara drummed his fingers on the table. "My brother already got her a book."

"Of course. Well, you can't go wrong with a cool necklace. Or ring."

"I _told_ you, Blondie, she hates jewelry."

_If you're going to be difficult, why even bother having me here?_ Her nerves were going very far, very fast. "Every girl likes jewelry. You just have to find the right kind. How would you describe your sister?"

"Bitchy."

Ino shot him a stern look. "Be nice! And so, what? _I'm_ bitchy. That's not much to go by."

Gaara snorted. "She likes to think she's badass, but she's only scary when she's mad."

_Badass, huh….hm._ "Well, we'll find her a badass necklace. C'mon."

They wound up in a little shop in the main street, peering into a glass case. The choices were sort of weak; there was a cool ring with a spider on it, but Gaara had declared it too small – and besides, his sister was arachnophobic, he said.

"That one." He nudged Ino and gestured to a bullet on a silver chain.

"It's morbid, but definitely badass," Ino admitted. "Why not?"

Gaara nodded and made the purchase.

"You know," Ino said as they began walking home, "I wouldn't peg you to be the person to get his sister a Christmas gift."

Gaara rolled his eyes. "And what does that mean?"

Ino shrugged. "Exactly what I said."

Gaara actually stopped. "You know," he said eventually, "Not everyone is a cold as you make them out to be."

Ino stopped too, and planted her hands on her hips. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that you don't realize how outgoing you are in comparison."

Ino narrowed her eyes. "Comparison to _who?_"

Gaara shrugged and began walking. "Everyone, more or less."

Ino glared at his back for a few moments, then figured that she wasn't going to get more out of him. "Maybe you're just asocial," she muttered.

"Or you're just too open," he countered.

_Shit. He wasn't supposed to hear that._ "There's nothing wrong with being honest," she sniffed.

"Honest and open are two different things."

Ino didn't know how to respond, so she went with the first thing that came to mind: "You sound like _such_ a Sagittarius right now."

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm a Capricorn, Blondie."

Ino snorted. "Same difference, practically."

"I'm not some hot and cold emotional rollercoaster with independence issues who's also in denial." He seemed personally offended by the comment.

Ino was a little taken aback. She hadn't counted on an intimate knowledge of astrology, actually she'd picked that little comment up from her brother, because_ Sagittarius are great, hm, but call someone out on acting like one and…_ "Well, then. Tell us how you really feel. Hey – I think you missed your street…"

"Your house is a few blocks down." He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

It took a minute for her to realize he was walking her home. Well, it _was_ dark out, and even though she practically lived in suburbia…

_It's still sweet. Ha! Look at him, being all nice. _Actually, it was kind of weird, but still.

Before turning down her driveway, she half-contemplated calling him out on it _(_and maybe even _hugging_ him, just to make him feel awkward) but then decided against it because frankly, that would be strange. And what if someone _saw?_

"See you! Hope your sister likes her necklace!"

He grunted and raised his hand in farewell.

x.x.x

Christmas Even and morning passed in relative cheer. She baked cookies with her mother, played video games with her brother, watched _Doctor Who_ with her father. Her parents seemed to put their argument aside; they didn't speak to each other much, but at least the atmosphere wasn't so _icy._

Dei _loved_ the Pokémon game, Ino noted, almost as much as he loved the art supplies their parents got for him. Ino's favorite was the pair of _gorgeous_ suede boots her mother had surprised her with and the tickets to see _Phantom of the Opera_ at the Konoha Theater, which was their region's equivalent of Broadway.

"This is _fantastic!"_ she squealed, hugging her mother. "Oh my god, _thank you!"_

And everyone was happy.

x.x.x

Over the course of the next couple days, Ino was busy. She called Shikamaru, who was spending the break in St. John with his family. "Don't waste it," she'd told him. "Have fun! Seriously, you're in a gorgeous place, you can't be lazy!"

He told her to chill out and try and enjoy the little things in life.

She'd given Chouji his gift, (which she admitted to herself was sort of lame) a gift card to his favorite restaurant. He gave her ridiculously huge hoodie (because he knew she liked those –they were always warmer) and a container of raw, homemade cookie dough.

She often wondered why she was friends with them, but she really did love them – their fathers were practically joined at the hip, so them being friends was decided in utero. (Ino had the sneaking suspicion that her and Shikamaru's respective births had been planned –they were born _within a day of each other._)

Sakura accompanied her to her family party. Ino's family was renowned for throwing down till the wee hours of the morning, which Ino attributed to the combination of not breaking out the whiskey till eleven and not serving dinner till eight. Ino thought that everything was fine; the family seemed to tolerate one another, no one had an aneurism when Dei introduced them to Anko (they actually found her _endearing)_ and they all departed around one in the morning.

But there was a sort of stony silence in the car between her parents; Ino's mother was driving, and was _quite_ pissed at her intoxicated husband. She caused quite a scene once they were in the car. Ino grit her teeth –_why_ couldn't they wait till Sakura wasn't there? _Why_ in front of her friend?

_Dei's so lucky he drove separately…_

Sakura shot Ino a sympathetic look. Ino smiled at her grimly. "I'll text you," Sakura said as she was dropped off. Ino nodded, and refrained from speaking until after they had arrived at their own house.

"_Please,_" Ino said as she got out of the car. "_Save_ your crap for another time. _Not_ right after Christmas in front of my friend."

She didn't hear what her mother said, and didn't look at her father. She knew she'd pissed off her mom, and she knew her father felt guilty, but frankly?

_She didn't give a damn._

Ino stalked up to her bedroom and pretended to be asleep when her mom came in to check on her.

She was too tired to deal with this shit.

**Whew! **_**Finally**_** got that chapter out. **

**Don't know how I feel about it. part of me feels like it's halfass filler, but part of me also says that it's necessary, or the rest will look like I pulled it outta my ass. **

**Alright. So, I'm updating. This is the last chapter to 'buildup' then we're gonna get into 'shit going down' territory. I wanted to add it in here, but it…I dunno. It didn't flow, you know? DX**

**I don't plan at all, but I foresee about…maybe ten more chapters. **

**Thank you all for your feedback and putting up with me. Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever you decide to celebrate, Happy New Year, and all that jazz. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	12. XII

**Hey, all! **

**Warnings: mention of death. (No, not a main character.) I know some people are sensitive to these things, and this story has been mostly lighthearted thus far. My conscience – and proper etiquette – dictates that I give a fair warning. **

**.**

The wee hours of the morning could get awfully _dull,_ Ino mused. There was only so much reading, only so much browsing the internet, and only so much _sitting there_ that she could do before she began to grow stir crazy.

It was also nearly three AM, and all her friends were wusses who passed out no later than one. Sakura had long ago fallen asleep on her, Shikamaru was in a completely different _time zone, _and she was now systematically going through her contacts and debating on who to bother.

On a whim, she dialed Gaara's number. It was a stretch, true, but she could pretend it was a butt-dial if the need arose.

To her surprise, he answered. "Do you know what time it is?" He didn't sound too irritated. At least, over the phone he didn't. If anything, he sounded sort of bemused.

Ino smiled to herself. _Win. _"Hey, you answered."

"Do you _really_ have nothing better to do?"

"What else is there to _do_ at two AM?"

"Sleep?"

"Sleep is for the weak."

Gaara made a noise. "Is there any point to this?"

Ino rolled onto her back, staring at her ceiling. "Not really. I'm bored. You're awake. Let's talk."

"You should probably get a hobby," Gaara advised.

"Probably," Ino agreed. She blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Did you sister like her necklace?"

There was static from the other line, then Gaara's voice cut in. "She won't take the damn thing off."

Ino felt herself grinning. "That means she _likes_ it."

"I know what it means," Gaara said irritably. "I just think she likes it _too_ much."

Ino laughed a little. "That's a _good_ thing."

"'Good' is a relative term," Gaara countered. "And not to be applied to Temari."

"Killjoy," Ino accused. "Anyways, what's up with you?"

"Well, I _was_ in the middle of something before you decided to call…."

"And what, if I may ask, were you doing?"

"Painting."

"Oh! Send me a picture!" Ino almost squealed, then added, "Please?"

There was a sigh from the other line. "…no."

"_Please?"_ Ino begged, partly because she was curious but mostly because it was fun goading him. Gaara sighed again. "When it's done."

"When will that be?" Ino questioned. "Will it be soon?"

Another sigh, this one more exasperated. "I can't exactly paint and talk on the phone at the same time…"

Ino deliberately ignored the hint. "Someone needs to learn to multitask."

"Someone needs to learn to take a hint."

"That's much too subtle for me," Ino declared.

Gaara exhaled over the line. "You're impossible."

"Thanks. I try."

"I'm going to hang up."

"No wait if you do I'll be bored –"

"Bye, Ino."

"_Gaara _–!'

The line went dead.

_That little shit! _No one hung up on her. She was Yamanaka Ino, goddammit.

She was also very bored. And sleepy. With one last pointed glare at her phone, she turned off the lights and flopped into bed.

x.x.x

The next day, Ino awoke around noon. She yawned and reached over to her nightstand to check her phone. Two messages – one from Sakura, informing her of plans for New Years, and another from Gaara.

In it was a picture of what he'd painted – a dark landscape of some kind of fantasy realm, with a dark pillar with – was that fire on the top? It was hard to tell, her phone's pic messaging sucked – in the distance. It looked cool, if not a little grim. There was no message with it, just the picture. It had been sent at three –thirty in the morning.

Ino grinned to herself and typed out a reply. _Sick painting. What's the scene from?_

The reply from the message didn't come until hours later, when Ino was at the skating rink with Tenten, siting at one of the tables while the ice was resurfaced and waiting for Neji and Hinata to show up. She was momentarily confused at the reply – _Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings?_ - but she remembered her question.

_Of COURSE_ _I've seen Lord of the Rings! Who the hell does this guy think he is?_ Ino didn't think it was possible to grow up (with or without her brother, who was a total fanboy) and _not_ have seen it at least once. Granted, it'd been a while since she'd seen them and _holy shit_ were the movies long and yeah, it wasn't really her thing.

But still.

She stared at her phone for a good minute and a half, trying to compose a reply that wouldn't make her seem like a) an idiot and b) a complete loser.

Tenten gave her a look as she adjusted her hair. "You alright there?"

Ino glanced up at Tenten and grinned. "Fine, fine. You know how you'd just be screwed if some of your conversations actually took place in person?"

Tenten _mhmed. _"Too true, babe. Who's on the other line?"

Ino paused. Frankly, she trusted Tenten. She was close with the girl – nowhere _near_ as close as she was with Sakura, but close enough. And Tenten was so laid-back and chill; Ino could, in all honesty, probably feel more comfortable talking certain things out with Tenten and _then_ talking to Sakura. It was weird, but that was how it worked.

But Ino still felt weird admitting to her sort of friendship with Gaara – it was _weird,_ and well, she didn't want word to get around. _Not if I can help it._

So it was only with a little bit of guilt that Ino told her, "Kiba. Seriously, I worry about that boy sometimes."

Tenten shook her head. "Please don't tell me you're gonna start flirting with him again."

Ino felt her cheeks go red, but she responded smoothly. "One: you're sick in the head. Two: Come off it! It was freshman year. We dated on a dare. Cut me some slack!"

Tenten grinned. "No can do. _That,_ my dear, will follow you to the grave."

Ino shook her head. "Remind me why I hang out with you, again?"

"Because you_ lo-ove_ me," Tenten quipped. She jumped as her phone went off. "Ah! Oh, Neji's here with Hinate. C'mon, let's meet find them – I think we'll be able to skate soon."

Ino followed Tenten and tucked her phone into her pocket. She'd manage a reply later.

But why was she even the least bit concerned, anyway?

x.x.x

Ino walked home from Sakura's, kicking sludge out of her way as she went. Break was almost over; it was the day before New Year's Eve. December thirtieth.

The sky was slate gray with the promise of snow; Ino hoped that it'd buy them a day or two more off. _That'd be absolutely fantastic. Seriously._

Ino couldn't help but get a bad feeling in her gut as she took her keys out of her purse (a gorgeous, purple gift from her aunt who had wonderful taste). It was ridiculous, and she berated herself; her mother was home, which meant that there'd most likely be some kind of delicious dinner waiting for her in an hour or so. There was no reason for her to feel apprehensive of walking into her own _home._

Ino swallowed and walked in, closing the door behind her. "Hey, anyone home?" she called, even though she knew her mom was there.

She was greeted with silence.

Ino swallowed, but shook it off. _She's probably doing a load of laundry in the basement._

Ino checked. Nothing.

Ino blew her bangs out of her eyes. _That's right. Wasn't mom taking stock in the shop today?_

With a sigh, Ino headed up to her room. _Paranoid. Seriously. _She turned on the T.V. and spent five minutes deciding whether to watch _V for Vendetta_ or _The Godfather._ Neither were typical to her tastes, but nothing else was on and she'd been raised on the stuff.

She settled for _V for Vendetta,_ changed into her sweats, and proceeded to bum it up.

Sometime later – right in the middle of Natalie Portman getting her head shaved – Ino's dad called her cell. She muted the television and answered. "What's up?"

"Ino, honey," her dad began, "Can you do me a favor? Have you seen my wallet?"

Ino sighed. Her dad could be so scatterbrained at time. "No, dad. Haven't seen it. Did you check your truck?"

"I am now," her father answered. "Can you do me a favor? In my room, on the bureau, just go look and see if it's there?"

Ino did as she was bid. No wallet was found, but the crisis was averted – her father found it in the dashboard, and he thanked her and Ino grinned to herself and wondered if everyone else had to keep their father's head screwed on for him.

Or, you know, maybe it was just her.

She sighed and turned around. She hadn't noticed before, but her mother was napping on the bed under the covers. _Funny. Usually she'd wake up…_ Ino's mother was a very light sleeper.

Ino shrugged. Maybe it was one of those naps that you took when you were sick – the ones that were pretty much synonymous with _comatose._

There was an empty glass of water on the nightstand beside the bed. Ino, deciding to be a good daughter, went over to take it downstairs.

However, something was…_off._

Ino frowned and turned to look at her mother's sleeping form. It was hard to make her out under the covers, and it was creepy with the room being strangely silent…

_Oh my God._

Ino's mom wasn't _breathing._

"MOM!" Ino dropped the glass and shook her mother. Nothing. Ino touched her mother's forehead, hands shaking. It was cool, not like someone's forehead would be if they were sleeping.

Ino felt sick. She couldn't bring herself to look for a pulse. With shaky hands and gasping breaths, she made to call – to call – _who?_

Three numbers.

9-1-1.

x.x.x

The next couple of hours passed in a blur. People – official looking men, not-so-official-looking men, her father (distraught) her brother (in tears). She was questioned and prodded and looked at from every angle.

She didn't know how the men even understood her, let alone _look_ at her. She was an utter _wreck_ with all the crying she'd done. Her father had arrived to find her slumped over the toilet, crying and vomiting and hyperventilating and not knowing what the _fuck_ was going on.

By the time everyone left, it was well past eight PM. Her mother's body had been taken to the morgue (_the morgue – not the hospital. She'd been dead for God-knows-how-many_ _hours by the time Ino'd seen her)_ and some of the extended family had come and gone. Ino had thrown up twice and Deidara refused to come out of his room.

Ino couldn't shake the iron fist that had clenched her gut.

x.x.x

Ino didn't get out of bed the next day. She was vaguely aware of relatives coming and going, her father talking with official-looking men, and her phone going off with texts. She only answered Sakura's, telling her that Ino couldn't come over to celebrate New Year's, with a lame excuse of being in trouble and forced to see her dying grandma.

Ino's grandmother didn't live in the same _time zone,_ and Sakura knew that. Ino couldn't bring herself to care. Her mother was _dead. _

Tears streamed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook.

_Dead._ It was so final.

It wasn't _fair._

By the next day, Sakura had somehow figured out what was going on. She came over bearing brownies and flowers and condolences. She knew exactly what to say and exactly how to handle Ino and Deidara and _everything._

Ino had cried. Sakura had cried a little, too, just sitting there and letting Ino just _be._ But when Ino began dry-heaving, which was not only embarrassing but gross and sort of raw, she took charge. _Mean Girls_ was put in the DVD player and brownies were served.

Ino picked at hers. It wasn't that it wasn't good – Sakura had a flair for baking and everything she made turned out fantastic – but she couldn't eat. There was a fist tightened around her stomach; it was like there was no room for food.

Sakura got picked up around ten but she didn't leave until closer to eleven. Her mother was talking to Ino's dad, being a complete sweetheart and offering sorrows and support.

_I don't want help!_ Ino wanted to scream. _I want my mom back!_

But she didn't. She just stood and sort of smiled, and hugged Sakura as she left.

x.x.x

Ino walked into the kitchen the next day around noon. She was at the point where she needed to at least pretend to eat, if only for her benefit. Some girls complained that they ate too much when they were stressed, or miserable. Ino would like to vouch that the alternative was far, far worse. You got irritated and tired and light-headed and the only thing that would make you better was food, but the thought of eating sickened you. And contrary to popular belief, you didn't lose any weight.

Her father and Deidara were at the table, looking grim. She poured herself a glass of milk – she figured that she could manage that – and sat down.

"The autopsy reports came in," Inoichi began, voice low.

Ino stopped, glass halfway to her mouth. She set it down. "And?"

Her mother's death had been a freak accident, right? You didn't just fall asleep in the middle of the day and _not wake up._ There had been no marks on the body, no signs of a suicide or struggle; she wasn't murdered, and she sure as hell hadn't taken her own life.

"She…your mother overdosed." Her father's voice was tight. Next to her, Deidara's hands clenched into fists. "On sleeping pills."

Ino closed her eyes. _Overdose. _It made everything sound so crude. Like her mother was a druggie. She stood, planting her hands on the table. "What pills? Do we sue the company? I mean, if she was just taking her medicine and then _died…_" the look on her father's face stopped her. "Ino," slowly, he got up and hugged her. "Oh, Ino. You're misunderstanding…"

Ino pulled back. "What – what…_No!_"

Inoicho's eyes were tired, and sad. He nodded grimly, tears falling from the corners of his eyes. Ino glanced at Deidara, but he was scowling at the table, muscles tensed.

Ino remembered, then, the empty glass of water on her mother's nightstand. She didn't want to believe it, but it clicked. It fell together. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes.

_Mom…mom _killed _herself?_

_x.x.x_

**Yeah. Depending on how the next couple of chapters turn out, the rating might turn to M. Not for smut, just for 'themes of suicide.' This was always in the original manuscript and is a non-negotiable plot point. **

**No, Ino will not go suicidal. Nor will Gaara. Clichés will be avoided. **

**I do **_**NOT**_** endorse suicide. Please, there are other ways to get help if you are considering. **

**Because of writing this, I feel obligated to make a point: you can always run an internet search for a suicide hotline. I'm not sure how FFN works with putting phone numbers, so to be safe I'm going to avoid it. But, that being said, there are always other options. **

**And: I have reason to believe that I can keep this at a high T. Again, I'm a bit jaded to trauma, though. As an objective reader, what do you believe? **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	13. XIII

**God, it's been awhile. **

**Thank you all for the wonderful feedback. That, if nothing else, will keep this story alive.**

On that note: _**This will never go on hiatus.**_

**Without further ado, let us begin: **

**.**

The funeral was held five days later. Ino had chosen the flowers – white lilies and yellow carnations, more for aesthetic value than their meaning – but her aunts and father and coordinated everything else. Many people had shown up – their family was big – but Ino hadn't been vocal about the event.

It was bad enough that her mother had died. She didn't need it to be plastered all over the goddamn internet.

Sakura was there with her mother. She squeezed Ino's hand before the service, but Ino was sitting with her father and brother. The priest said his words, and people were teary, and the incense wasn't _helping_ anyone.

Ino didn't cry once. She'd done nothing but cry for the past three days. She couldn't cry anymore. Shikamaru (now returned from vacation) and Chouji had been there – they were with her at the burial – but Ino didn't see them.

The day passed in a blur. Ino almost threw up when they lowered the casket into the ground. But she didn't. She just squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed Deidara's hand. He squeezed, _hard._ Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

_Dei. Crying. _

Ino swallowed and looked at the ground. The words from the service – _you are dust and to dust you shall return –_ echoed in her head. She decided on the spot that she hated God, or whatever powers that be.

She wanted to punch something.

It wasn't _fair. _

.

Ino's phone was ringing.

She didn't feel like answering.

.

Ino stayed home from school the first day back, but she assured her father that she'd be okay to go the next day. She couldn't miss school – not because of _this. _ She'd be fine, she told him. She wasn't crying anymore – she hardly even _felt_ like crying. Besides, no one knew, right? The funeral had been a friends/family ordeal. Sakura wasn't a blabbermouth, neither was Shikamaru or Chouji.

She'd be _fine._ She was Ino Yamanaka, dammit!

.

She was _so not fine. _

People were talking, and looking at her, and quieting when she walked by. She wasn't stupid. She knew they were talking. Ino hadn't so much as glanced at her phone for the past week, and she hadn't been on Facebook or any other sort of networking, either. But somehow, word had spread.

She shouldn't be surprised, she told herself. Obituaries had to be published, and, well…

She knew that people meant well – offering condolences and 'are you okays?' and 'let me know if you need anything.' Ino, for the most part, had been relatively gracious.

But by the time lunch had rolled around, Ino was _sick_ of it.

"Sorry about your mom, Ino," a redheaded girl said. Ino was pretty sure that she'd _never_ talked to in her life.

_So why the hell is she saying sorry?_

"Will you just _shut_ up?" Ino screamed. The poor girl looked quite affronted, and _oh shit,_ everyone was staring at Ino like she lost her mind.

"Christ," an androgynous punk (goth? Emo? Ino didn't have the inclination to dissect the student's grisly style) said to her – his? – equally androgynous friend, "She doesn't have to be such a _bitch."_

Ino just about flipped her shit. She rounded on the punk girl – guy? – and told him – her? – loudly, "Fuck _off,_ and do us all a favor and cut down the road next time, _kay,_ asshole?"

Two seconds later: _Oh, shit._

Now _everyone_ was looking at her. The words had come out before she could process them, and, though she realized how _horrible_ what she'd just said was, she had no inclination to take it back. In a sick way, right at that very moment, she sort of meant it.

_Keep it together till you get out...just keep it together…keep it together and _pray_ that she's got enough backbone to not take you literally._

She flicked her ponytail, made a 'hmmph!' sound, and stalked out of the lunchroom with as much dignity as she could muster. She ignored the call of the moderator and her friends, and made it to the bathroom _before_ she broke down.

.

There were reasons why Shikamaru was her best friend. He didn't try to talk to her, like some people would've done, or drag her to the guidance counselor, like Sakura would've done. He just sat next to her as she cried, a steady arm around her shoulders. He'd held her hair back when she threw up in the toilet and silently offered her a mint afterwards.

Ino currently had her faced buried in his shoulder, sobs fading out. She'd long since missed her chem class, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She stilled when someone walked in. She didn't want to look. The footsteps stopped.

She felt Shikamaru make a gesture. "Can I help you?"

"You know this is the guy's room, right?"

"And?"

There was a noncommittal grunt. Ino felt utterly mortified.

_Great. The last thing I need is a rumor about me and Shikamaru being in the guy's room together. _That on top of everything else…

There was the sound of the sink running, then the boy left.

"He's gone," Shikamaru said, standing. Ino looked up at him. "C'mon," he said. "Unless you wanna stay here…?"

Ino rubbed her eyes and stood, trying not to look at the urinals. _At least I didn't wear makeup this morning…_

She didn't ask questions, just followed him.

.

.

Ditching school wasn't really that hard, especially considering that Shikamaru had the last three periods of the day free. Ino figured that that was where his supposed genius came in – planning in advanced to have an easy as hell year.

Because Shikamaru was too much of a lazyass to take the driving test, and because Ino didn't have her license yet, they were stuck walking. Ino didn't mind, even though it was snowy. Anywhere was better than school.

The cute little café not too far from her house was probably the best. Shikamaru told her to find a seat, then came back bearing what appeared to be two very large cups of hot chocolate.

Ino took it and stared down at it, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

Shikamaru glanced over at her. "Well? Drink it. I paid good money for that." He muttered something about her being troublesome under his breath, and sipped his drink.

Ino's glare at him went thoroughly ignored. But she picked up the cup and inhaled the scent of coffee and chocolate and cinnamon and whipped cream; really, she'd be stupid not to drink it.

"Thanks, Shikamaru," she said after a while. She offered a weak smile.

He cast her a sidelong look. "It's no trouble."

.

Later that night, Ino's phone rang. She was on her bed, laptop in lap, doing absolutely nothing productive because there was no way in _hell_ she was going to school tomorrow. She didn't want to answer it – in fact she almost didn't – but she thought it might be Sakura (who else would it be?) and without a glance at the caller I.D., she answered.

"What?" She meant to say 'hello' she really did.

"Hello to you too." Gaara's voice was flat as ever.

Ino's stomach plunged. He was the _last_ person she needed to talk to. Really.

"Can I _help_ you?" Ino bit back, no bothering to be polite.

"I was going to ask why a friend of mine just went on a twenty-minute rant as to why you're a psycho bitch, but I think I found my answer."

"Fuck you _both,_" Ino snarled, and hung up.

Two seconds later, she felt guilty. She didn't want to take it back, though. Fuck him, his friend, and the fucking horse they rode in on.

.

"_Guidance counselor?"_

Ino looked at the little white slip of death that the attendance lady was offering her.

No. Uh-uh. There was _no way_ Ino was going there. She didn't _need_ it. She wasn't suicidal or depressed and she didn't have anger management issues and she most certainly _didn't need to see the guidance counselor._

The attendance lady – a dark haired, elderly woman that the called Mrs. Verscino by the freshman and Cookie by everyone else – chuckled, then pursed her lips. Every teacher knew of the stigma that the guidance department had, but the woman also knew why Ino was being sent there.

"We just want to see how you're doing," Cookie said, more or less forcing the slip upon Ino. "Your father called in and recommended it."

"Traitor," Ino muttered, taking the slip and walking away without any intent to go.

"Oh, and, Ino?" Cookie called. Ino turned and forced herself to be respectful. "Yes?"

"Because this was a parent-recommended meeting, if you skip you get ten demerits."

Ino's jaw dropped. _Ten? Really? _"Right," she said, and left.

She had until lunch to find a half decent excuse.

_What a great way to start a new week. Just. Effin'. Great. _

_._

_._

She told Sakura that she was making up a test during the lunch period. The last thing Ino needed was people to _know_ that she was at Guidance. She felt bad for lying to Sakura, but…

_Whatever. Let's get this over with._

Ino had only gone to Guidance _once,_ and that was during course selection freshman year. There were _horror_ stories about Guidance interfering with _everything._ (Like, God forbid you should say _anything_ alluding to the fact that you want to die, or punch a baby, or kill someone you hate.)

That was the problem with her school – it was big enough that they couldn't make seeing the counselor mandatory for everyone, but small enough to catch any and all emotional blips on the radar. And now Ino was a blip on the radar.

Ino trudged up to the second floor, stalling, but eventually she had to face the inevitable.

She rounded the corner and headed down the hall. The door to Shizune's office was closed, and a white noise machine stood outside it. Ino sighed and sat down on the bench near the door.

_I'll give her two minutes, then I'm outta here._

Thirty seconds later the door opened. " – now, but if you need to talk I'll be here tomorrow. Let me know how your sister's doing." The voice was warm and feminine; whoever responded spoke too lowly for Ino to hear.

_People actually come here willingly?_

Ino shifted, but stared at the wall directly ahead of her. _PLEASE let whoever's coming out be a freshman. PLEASE – _

"Ino?"

Ino felt like she just swallowed a bullet. "Hi, Gaara," she said weakly, looking up.

Gaara arched an eyebrow. "They send you here for flipping shit yesterday?"

Before Ino could respond with a scathing retort, Shizune popped her head out of her office. "Ino! I'm sorry, but someone has an emergency – I'm going to reschedule for tomorrow, and you can come see me after school. Unless…are you going to be okay? About your mom?"

Ino really turned up her smile – the megawatt one she used on parents and teachers. "I'll be fine! Go see whoever actually needs it, I'll see you whenever."

Shizune looked relieved. "Thanks, Ino." She smiled, then speed walked down the hall.

Ino swallowed and sighed in relief. _Glad that's over._

For now, anyway.

Gaara was looking at her. "What?"

Gaara shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"Words were implied."

He kept looking at her. "I'm just trying to figure out why you were sent to _Guidance._"

_Breathe. Inhale. Exhale._ "Not that it's your business, or anything."

"Ouch. That almost hurt." He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He gave her another once-over, finally settling on her eyes.

Ino decided right then and there that she didn't like his eyes, pretty not-blue as they were. There was something about the way he was looking at her – like he was seeing right _through_ her. It was disturbing and weird and it felt just plain violating.

"It wouldn't be that you freaked on Matsuri," he mused, only half to himself, "and you don't have grade problems. That leaves two things..."

Ino narrowed her eyes. _Don't play dumb with me, fucktard._ "You know, I could be asking you the same thing."

"Doctor recommendation." He sighed, and his voice took a different tone. "You know…"

"What?" Ino snapped. _You know my mom's dead, just say it. _She could feel tears prick behind her eyes. _Shit._ She stared at her feet, hoping that maybe he'd go away. She heard a thump as his bag hit the floor and all of a sudden his arms were around her and her face was in his shirt.

Ino hugged him back on instinct; he wasn't that much taller than her, and her arms fit neatly over his shoulders. She shut her eyes and felt tears streak down her cheeks, but she didn't care.

She didn't care about a _lot_ of things anymore.

Eventually she pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Shit," she wiped at her eyes. Her makeup was running.

Gaara rolled his eyes and said, not unkindly, "Jesus. Hold on." He fished something out of his pocket – a mini makeup kit.

And not just any makeup.

M.A.C.

He opened it and noticed the look she was giving him. "What?"

"…really?" Ino cast a pointed look at the makeup, then back at him, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a laugh.

He rolled his eyes. "Do you _want_ me to help you?" he didn't give her time to respond, just gestured at the bathroom and thrust the makeup into her hand. "It's waterproof."

That was all the incentive she needed. There was a bathroom right near the counselor's office, probably for the exact purpose Ino was using it. She scrubbed at her face with a wet paper towel, and, though she felt weird using _Gaara's_ makeup, she went with it after a moment of hesitation. _He offered,_ she rationalized,_ and you really do look terrible._

Black kohl, gray and black eye shadow, a black stick of eyeliner – there was even black _lipstick_ for chrissake. Black mascara, though that was normal. The only exception was the white foundation, though (thankfully) it looked unused.

Ino rimmed her eyes with the eyeliner, and used the pale gray eye shadow to lighten it up. She also brushed under her eyes with the foundation, because you could tell she'd been crying.

She stayed in there for a few more moments – to compose herself – and after steeling her nerve, walked out.

Gaara was sitting against the wall, the picture of nonchalance. Ino sat next to him, handing him the makeup kit. "Thanks," she said quietly.

He nodded and slipped it back in his pocket. He was silent for a time, letting her sit with her thoughts, then said, "The bell's gonna ring in ten minutes." He let the rest hang in the air, but he stood and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Ino stood too, though regrettably. "I can't ditch again…"

Gaara looked at her. "Why not?"

That gave Ino pause. _Good question: why not? _ It wasn't like she had any tests to make up…and there _were_ less than two hours left in the school day.

"If they're at the point where you're sent here," Gaara went on, gesturing around, "Then they're willing to chalk anything up to 'coping mechanism.'"

Well.

She couldn't argue with that.

.x.

Ditching with Gaara was _completely_ different than ditching with Shikamaru.

Gaara made his third sharp turn in as many minutes. Ino was gripping her backpack against her chest for dear life. "Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?"

Technically, he'd told her, it was his brother's car, and that he'd probably be pissed when he found that Gaara'd taken it. But Gaara didn't seem to really care; he just threw his bag into the back seat, took the keys out of his pocket, and asked Ino (rather impatiently) if she was going to get in or not.

When he didn't respond, something dawned on Ino. "Do you even have your _license?_"

He smirked. "I have my permit."

Ino cursed to herself as he slammed on the breaks. _I could probably drive this thing better than him. My god._

And, on top of that, Ino was pretty sure he was lost. They were heading to heaven-knew-where; Ino didn't recognize anything around her.

She turned to him. "Where are we going?"

Another smirk. "You'll see, Blondie." And with that he popped a CD into the player and cranked the volume up. "Hope you like Children of Bodom."

Two seconds later, Ino decided that she most certainly did _not_ like Children of Bodom.

_At least if he crashes and you die, it'll be to a heavy metal soundtrack._

That didn't really make her feel better. She just closed her eyes and ears and waited for the ride to be over.

She didn't realize that the car stopped until he cut the engine. "We're here, Blondie, so you can get out of your fetal position now."

Ino blinked, then scrambled out of the car. They were in the parking lot of some old building. There was a dull, unlit neon sign that read_ Dante's Inferno._

Ino frowned. "I am _not_ going into some Goth club with you."

Gaara rolled his eyes. "_Former_ Goth club. Friend of mine bought it and I'm helping him with the heavy lifting. Was gonna go after school, but…" he trailed off and gestured for her to follow him. He took another key out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock on the side door, letting the chain drop to the snow on the ground.

Ino followed him in. He flicked a switch, and harsh, industrial lights flared to life. There wasn't much to the interior; it was pretty much just a cleared out basement, with concrete floors and 2 x4s everywhere and wires poking out of the ceiling. It was still cold, though their breath didn't make white clouds. Gaara kicked the snow off his boots and made for a staircase to their right.

"What's your friend turning this into?" Ino asked as they made their way upstairs.

"Bookstore-café joint. You know, modern." He said it like as if he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Ino _mhmed_ and didn't ask any more questions. At the top of the stairs, Gaara flipped another switch and stepped up.

Here it was a little more done, though still bare. There was furniture, a space heater, and a minifridge, shoved in one corner, and more wood beams and power tools in another. There were drop cloths all over the floor and paint cans on makeshift shelves.

Forgetting that she wasn't going to ask any more questions, Ino asked, "What are you supposed to be doing?"

"Putting up the drywall," he told her.

Ino nodded. She'd seen her dad do it.

"Hey, Gaara? What's on the next floor up?"

"Studio."

"Yours?"

"Hn."

_Way to be noncommital, she thought_. She stood and walked over to the staircase. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go check it out –

"Don't," Gaara told her. The tone of his voice made Ino stop short and look at him.

He cleared his throat. "Boss's orders," he told her. He gestured to the corner with the couch and the minifridge as he knelt down to turn on the space heater. "Make yourself at home. Just don't drink the booze."

Ino nodded and did just that. She got herself a Coke and plopped down on the couch. Doing her homework crossed her mind, but she'd left her books in the car and frankly she didn't feel like going out to get them. So Ino settled herself down and watched him work because it was better than thinking.

He worked smoothly – he wasn't quick and sharp, but he wasn't slow and sure, either. He just _did,_ cutting and nailing and other things that she couldn't name because she didn't know construction. She also looked around the room, but there wasn't much to see. Then she started thinking, and felt herself starting to cry, so she took an unladylike gulp of her Coke and pulled herself together.

Her eyes strayed back to him. He wasn't unattractive, she found herself thinking. The Goth look just wasn't her thing – it wasn't really that many people's thing. He wasn't built too badly, either – in fact, he had a nice musculature (a word she learned from her brother), even if he was sort of short.

It was sort of weird to think of him like that, but Ino shrugged it off. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, either, because something else crossed her mind.

"Gaara?"

He stopped; he'd been (attempting to) open a can of Coke when she spoke.

She took that as acknowledgement. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't ask what. He paused a minute, then sat on the opposite end of the couch. "Whatever they sent you to Guidance for wasn't just anything." He spoke carefully, measuring his words.

"My mom's dead," Ino said flatly. She was a little surprised at herself. But the nerve left her after she spoke.

Gaara nodded as if he hadn't already known. "That'll get you landed there."

Ino shook her head. "I don't get it. I'm not like her. I – I'm not just going to _off_ myself because I got tired of living – "

He interrupted her with a humorless chuckle. "_That's_ the kind of talk that they worry about, you're welcome."

_What – _"'You're welcome?' What'd you mean by that?" Ino blinked at him in confusion.

He shrugged and looked at the wall, Coke still unopened. "Freshman year I tried to kill myself. Twice. Now they know what to look for."

Ino blinked. "Oh – I'm sorry about that." _Lame. But what are you supposed to say to that? _

His eyes closed and he went still. "I'm over it now. Shizune just…" he trailed off and busied himself with trying to open the can of soda.

Ino bit her lip. She didn't want it to be awkward, and clearly he considered the conversation over. "Here. Watching you try to open that is becoming painful." She opened the tab easily with her nail, then handed it back to him. She flashed a grin.

He rolled his eyes but raised the can to her in a sort of mock-salute of thanks. For all his composure, Ino could tell he was sort of on edge, and he was startled when she scooted closer and hugged him around his ribs.

"Thanks," she said into his shirt. "Really. I –" she cut herself off because she felt herself choke up.

Gaara gave her a one-armed hug back. He didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

**.**

**A little longer than usual, because I've been away for too long. **

**If any of you have stuck with this..you effin' rock**

**Until next time ~**

**As always, let me know your thoughts.**


	14. XIV

**Apologies for comma abuse, lack of updates, and language. (Actually, I'm not sorry for the language. What am I doing?)**

**Second time posting this because it needed editing.**

.

_Friday_

It was with great indignity that Ino choked on her school-issued chocolate milk; however, it was not entirely uncalled for. There were certain things that left Tenten's mouth that never, _ever_, should be repeated in mixed company – or any company, for that matter – and these certain things warranted an undignified display (even if it was only to stress the point to Tenten that what she had said was _very, very uncalled for)._

"Come again?" Ino said after recovering.

Tenten looked amused. "You heard me. You've been flirting with Gaara – no, don't deny it! What's the deal?"

In a moment of desperation, Ino looked at Sakura. The girl tossed her a sly grin and scooted closer. "Yeah, Pig, what _is_ going on between you and the resident Goth boy?"

And with that, she effectively threw Ino under the proverbial bus. (And because it'd been weeks since The Incident and because Ino hadn't yet had another monumental freak-out, there was minimal guilt.)

_Traitor,_ Ino thought menacingly, mentally stabbing Sakura with her ballpoint pen. Instead she arched an eyebrow and kept a perfect poker face– though the effect was ruined by the blush that was _totally_ spreading all over her cheeks. "No! _No._ Please – there is _nothing,_ let me repeat, _nothing,_ going on with me and _him._ Ew. God. No."

"Pretty heavy denial, if you ask me," Tenten said amicably, and added, "But whatever you say, boss," when Ino shot her a look meant to kill puppies.

"You _can't,_ however," Sakura said, even though the subject was _clearly closed,_ "Deny the flirting."

Ino rolled her eyes and pressed her fingertips together. "Sakura, we have been over this. Just because I am naturally playful and outgoing does _not_ make me a flirt, and it does _not_ mean I was flirting with Gaara."

Ew. Even _saying_ it made her skin crawl.

"What I'm more surprised about is," Sakura went on as if Ino hadn't spoken, "That he's _flirting back._"

"You know, the word 'flirting' is beginning to lose all meaning," Ino said to the air. She went largely ignored.

"You're right," Tenten said in an almost conspiratal tone. "Like, you'd think he'd just turn around and knock her out or something."

"Can we change the subject?"

Sakura nodded at Tenten's point. "From this, we can draw two logical conclusions –"

"Can we change the subject _please?_"

"Either the zombie apocalypse is upon us or –_"_

"I'll buy you _food._"

"Shut up Sakura! Free _food!_" Tenten gave a shit-eating grin.

Sakura's mouth promptly shut. "I would like a cookie, miss," she told Ino.

"Make that two. And fries."

"Fuck you _both._"

x.x.x

The weekend had sucked – her father and her brother had gotten into what was probably the biggest fight _ever –_ there was shattered China, words like _faggot _and _cocksucker_ thrown around, and she was pretty sure a bottle had been thrown at some point. On top of this, Mondays sucked, and Ino was _mad._

She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about her friends – about Sakura in particular – was ticking her off.

Maybe it was Tenten and her ability to turn _everything_ into a pissing match. Or Hinata and her feigned 'insecurities' as a ploy for attention. Or Sakura's one-track mind for her boyfriend and innate _douchebaggery_ that made Ino want to vomit.

Whichever the case, Ino was in a bad mood and the three people closest to her were the reason.

Ino had done her best to ignore the feelings – after all, she was a teenage girl and therefore could write off pretty much any unexplained anger to PMS or stress –but right now, she was _not _in the mood.

She was in a funk. A funk that she really couldn't drag herself out of. She'd been snappy, and mean, and just all-around _bitchy._

But she'd been okay, until Hinata – Hinata, of all people – just set her off.

"Just _shut up_ already, will you?" Ino couldn't take it anymore. At best she only tolerated Hinata, and right now she was resisting the urge to go at her throat as she spoke about how she was on a new low-carb diet for some useless shit or another.

There was an awkward silence. Tenten was staring at the two of them, caught – Ino swore to herself that if the girl said _anything,_ she would take her sport and rake it across Tenten's face.

"Uhm, _excuse me?_" Sakura's eyes became slits. "_What_ did you just say?"

"Did I stutter? No. Are you involved in this? _Hell_ no. How about she," here Ino gestured across the table at Hinata, "Actually sticks up for herself?"

"Ino," Tenten hissed, "You know –"

"Know what?" Ino snorted.

"Ino, calm _down_. Show some respect –"

"Why the fuck should I respect someone who can't stick up for themselves?"

"Ino, you're being an asshole –" Sakura began.

"Ask me if I care. Go on, do it." Maybe it was the venom in her voice, maybe it was the look on her face – either way, Ino was greeted with silence.

With that, Ino stood so quickly that her chair flipped over. Without bothering to fix it she grabbed her backpack and stalked away, ignoring Hinata's tears and Sakura's words.

The worst part was that Ino actually felt kind of good.

.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

Sakura cornered Ino by her locker after school. Ino slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary and told Sakura, very eloquently, "I'm not dealing with this shit."

Sakura sighed. "Ino," she said, in a too-patient voice, "If this is about your mom –"

"This has nothing to do with my mom!" Ino shot back, voice growing more and more vehement, "And absolutely everything to do with people and their bullshit!"

Sakura reached out to put a comforting hand on Ino's shoulder. "…Ino…" Ino jerked away.

"_Don't_ touch me," Ino spat.

Sakura recoiled, all traces of gentle understanding gone. "What is _wrong_ with you?" She yelled so loudly that Ino was actually taken aback.

"Ever – for the past _month_ you've been _nothing_ but a total bitch! And it's not just you're mom's _death – _ever since you started hanging with Gaara you've – _ugh!_ You know, we've tried to be understanding, but frankly? This is just your true colors. You're a fucking _asshole,_ Ino, and –_"_

_That's it. _

"_Go kill yourself,_" Ino spat, and shoved into Sakura as she walked away. "There's a reason you can't do better than Naruto."

_Okay, maybe you went a little too far with that one…_

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Gaara remarked as Ino walked past him on her way to the bus. Some of his friends laughed.

The only think that kept Ino from punching him was the fact that her hands were full.

.

Wednesday found Ino curled up on a slightly ripped couch in the loft where Gaara worked, pissed off and ranting. He listened patiently, quietly – it was almost uncanny, when you talked to someone who was a good listener – but as Ino was ranting, not talking, really Gaara's listening skills were put to no use.

" – two days, _seriously,_ and all this shit winds up _all over _ the fuckin' grade! It's no one's business, and _such_ a typical move for her to drag everyone else into it!" Ino dug her nails into the arm of the couch. "Seriously, if knew _half_ of the shit she talks – pretending to be deep and – _ugh,_ that girl is so pretentious, she can take her fucking issues and shove them up her ass!"

At that Gaara chuckled. "Thought she was your best friend?"

Ino shook her head. Against her will, tears began to well up in her eyes. _No. Not here. Please, not here._ "I obviously overestimated our relationship." She swallowed around the lump in her throat and exhaled, trying to pull herself together. "Actually," she said, quieter, "you're one of three people not pissed at me now."

At that his eyes widened. "I see."

"Yeah," Ino said, quietly. Discreetly as she could, she wiped at her eye with the sleeve of her hoodie. "So," she said, with feigned brightness, "What's up in your life, huh?"

He shot her a quizzical look – she knew he knew she was changing the subject – but shrugged. "I got pit tickets to my favorite band, so that's pretty cool."

"Pit? As in the venue has seats?"

Gaara shook his head. "Tell me about it. _Seats. Seats, _at a _metal_ concert. It's sickening, really – but there's no seat in a pit. I had to suck dick for these tickets."

Ino laughed. "You would say that." It was weird, watching him become animated over something – it didn't happen too often.

He rolled his eyes jokingly. "One day you'll understand."

"Yeah, _okay._" Ino playfully shoved his shoulder. "When you stop wearing makeup."

He shoved her back. "Like that's gonna happen."

The pushing escalated, and somehow Ino wound up pinned against the arm of the couch.

For an eternity of six seconds everything was at a standstill. Ino was hyperaware of him –those beautiful blue eyes, how his breathing was heavy, the way he was looking at her, really _looking…_

And suddenly he was leaning forward and kissing her, tasting like coffee and mints. One arm was braced on the arm of the couch and the other was on her face, her shoulder, her neck, and she was kissing him too and –

_Wait._

He seemed to realize what was happening the minute she did because they broke apart at the same time. Ino pressed into the arm of the couch and willed herself to disappear. Her face was probably bright red, she knew it; had she glanced up, she would have seen that Gaara's ears were scarlet but he was looking at her looking at the couch.

"I – I should probably go," Ino said eventually. She chanced a glance at him but wished she hadn't. He moved, shifted so he was no longer in her personal space and she managed to keep her cool until she left the building.

Then she started shaking.

_Oh god. Oh, my god. _

She had just kissed Gaara.

_Kissed. Gaara._

_Shit._

.

The first thing Ino did when she got home was call Shikamaru.

He'd never been big on listening to her girl-talk, though he tolerated it in small doses. Right now he was her go –to, because Gaara and Shikamaru had one thing in common: they were boys.

"_So, let me get this straight," _Shikamaru said over the phone, _"You two got into a pseud-shoving match…and then started to hook up."_

"No!" Ino squealed. "No," she said, calmer. "We didn't – y'know, _hook up,_ okay? There wasn't that much – _no._"

There was a sigh from the other line. _"Ino…_"

"Sorry, sorry. The verdict?"

"…_It's highly improbable, but when you rule out the impossible –_"

"Enough Doctor Who references!"

"_Sherlock. Sher-lock. Jesus, woman. As I way _saying,_ the only explanation is that he likes you or he's lost a bet."_

"Which is more likely?" Ino bit her lip. She wasn't sure which on she wanted more –getting played like that was bad, yeah, but…

Another sigh. _"Sorry, Ino. You've got a Goth with a crush on your hands."_

Ino suppressed a groan. "Alright. Thanks, Shika."

He yawned. _"No problem. You gonna be okay?"_

Downstairs, Ino heard the clattering of broken glass and risen voices. She sighed. "Yeah, I'll be okay. I gotta go, Dad and Dei are at it again. See you."

"_Bye._"

.

Ino had no idea how she walked into English the next day and kept a straight face, but she did it. Sakura was giving her a dirty look so Ino ignored her, but then she had to look at Gaara because she _sat next to him. _

_Does he regret it? Shit, how –why –oh god._

_She_ still wasn't sure how she felt about it. Last night she had spent more energy than she'd playing peacemaker between her brother and father and had fallen asleep before she could really think about Gaara.

But Gaara threw her a grin. Her mind was too busy going asdfjlk; to properly read into it (and it was most certainly a grin to be read into), but she offered a smile back on impulse and slipped into her seat.

Ino was ridiculously thankful that Kurenai had decided to jump full throttle into the lesson. She concentrated on the doodles in her notebook and tried to pretend that nothing was bothering her.

Ino only needed a plan for when the bell rang – she'd need to bypass both Sakura and Gaara – but it all worked out when Kurenai called her to the front of the room.

"Ino," Kurenai said as she pushed a paper forward, "I know you can do better than this."

Ino frowned and picked up the paper. She cringed. It wasn't the thesis on _Jane Eyre_ that she'd expected, but instead a creative writing piece. "Sorry?" Ino said it more like a question.

Kurenai sighed. "I understand, what with what's happened," it was funny, Ino thought dimly, how they never said 'that your mom's dead,' "So I'm going to give you an extension. Let me know how it goes, and if you need anything…"

"Thanks," Ino said, even though that was the last thing she wanted to hear. She flashed a tight smile and, taking the paper, strode away, having no intention of redoing the paper.

.

.

There was _no way _in hell that Ino was going to go to the lunchroom today. Sakura _and_ Gaara were in there – it was a veritable cornucopia of confrontation that she really didn't need right now.

But Gaara was waiting for her by her locker, _go figure._ He greeted her with a nod and let his eyes ask the question.

There was a funny thing about nonverbal questions: you are allowed to ignore them. That's exactly what Ino did, instead saying, "If you're waiting for me – don't. I'm…I'm not going to lunch today." She didn't look up as she said this, instead contemplating the insides of her locker.

"So you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding!" Ino knew that it came out too quick, too defensive. She also didn't care.

"Then what are you doing out here?" he asked in _that_ tone of voice. Ino bit her lip, knowing what he was doing. He was backing her into a corner, pushing her, trying to get a rise.

"Touché." Ino shut her locker and slammed the lock shut. She exhaled and looked at him. "Then what do you propose?"

Gaara grinned and leaned forward. "Wanna throw 'em through a loop?" There was something in his eyes, a mischievous glint that was too tempting to say no to.

"What are you thinking?"

His grin widened. "Let's give 'em something to talk about." He didn't explain as he they walked into the cafeteria, only glanced back to make sure she was following.

Ino just about freaked out when he made a grab for her hand. "What are you doing?"

He smirked. "Giving them something to talk about." With that he took her hand and intertwined their fingers.

Ino could feel her face begin to turn red, but she quelled it as best she could; she could feel stares and hear some questions, but there wasn't any 'giant hush that settled over the room,' which Ino had been fearing.

_Guess that only happens in movies…_

But still, he'd kissed her, and didn't bring it up again, and now he was _holding her hand_ and she was freaking out like _such_ a teenybopper but seriously this was _Gaara –_

_Shit. _Gaara actually might…_like_…her.

She shoved the thoughts from her head – she couldn't think about this, not _now._

He gestured for her to sit; she took her spot between him and the wall, across from Kiba, and androgynous punk boy (girl?) and two girls – Matsuri if Ino was right, and another girl with orange hair who Ino didn't recognize.

"She's sitting here," Gaara said, and there was no comment. Ino concentrated very hard on the table and tried not to make any eye contact.

Great. Sitting at the designated Freak Table would _so_ not set her record straight.

_AwkwardawkwardawkwardAWKWARD…_

"So," Kiba said conversationally, leaning back in his chair, "What's this all about? Your little spat with Sakura, I mean."

Ino actually looked up. Kiba wasn't too bad –okay, he needed to do something about his hair and the red makeup on his face– he was friends with Shikamaru and Naruto, so she knew him by association. But how the hell did he know about _that?_

"How – "

"Sakura tells things to Naruto, and he tells things to me." He grinned, the chair legs coming forward and his elbows landing on the table with a _smack._ "So, talk."

"Uh, why?" Ino asked dumbly, not really knowing what his deal was.

The punkish girl next to him snorted, flipping dye-black hair out of her face. "Yeah, why?"

"Because I'm curious. And we all know Haku needs more fodder for his novel."

The androgynous (boy) looked up from his paperback. "Yes, please tell."

The girl with orange hair snorted. "You can't go around exploiting other people's drama for inspiration."

Haku sniffed. "There's nothing saying I can't."

"Remember what happened when that girl you were dating found out you were using her to fuel your fanfic –" she was cut off.

Haku's smile promised imminent death. "Remember how we don't mention that in public?"

Presently, Ino's head was spinning. She really was too tired and stressed to keep up with them – for whatever reason, they just had _so much energy. _"She's being a bitch and I refuse to deal with it. When she gets her head out of her ass, she can come and talk to me."

"Standard bitch fight," the girl with orange hair said, sounding a little disappointed.

Kiba rolled his eyes. "Under every bitch fight there are motives and secrets."

"Also the cure for aids. And the map to Atlantis." Ino didn't care that her sarcasm fell flat; she wasn't in the mood to be witty. The girl with the orange hair, however, found it absolutely hilarious. "I like you. I'm Isaribi, by the way."

"Ino," Ino said, smiling despite herself. "And I really like your hair."

.

"You're friends are…interesting," Ino told Gaara later. "Though I'm pretty sure that Matsuri hates me."

"She hates everyone. Besides, I'm pretty sure you told her to commit." Gaara nudged her. "And that's usually mutually exclusive to making nice with someone."

Ino rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever….In all seriousness," she turned to face him, "Thanks. For everything." She figured a hug or something would be appropriate, except that he was wearing a shirt with no less than six buckles on it and they were in public, the students all bustling around them. _And you have no idea where you stand with him._

_Aw, screw it._

She hugged him anyway. His arms came around her, squeezed, lingered…

_Yeah, he likes you._

"Thanks," she said as she pulled away.

A corner of his mouth tugged up. "No problem, Blondie."

.

"He needs to fucking _stay out_ of my life!" Deidara narrowed his eyes and concentrated on shredding the piece of loose leaf. He was sitting on Ino's bed, black trench coat contrasting sharply with her pink duvet. "Doesn't like my major, doesn't like my girlfriend –well _fuck_ him."

"Fuck him indeed," Ino mused absent mindedly from the swivel chair at her desk. "Hey Dei, what's the difference between a covalent and ionic bond?"

"Ionic is opposite ions, hm, covalent is shared electrons." The response was automatic, so much so that Dei knew what she had done before he saw the look she was giving him. "Shut up, hm."

Ino put her hands up in the universal 'I'm innocent' gesture. "You said it, not me. Dei, you're a certifiable genius in science. Everyone, repeat, _everyone_ in my chem class just failed a quiz. You got a five on the AP exam. _A Five._"

"So you're _agreeing _with him?" Dei's voice rose an octave, cracking on the last word.

Ino shook her head. "I'm just saying maybe he has a point."

He pouted. Given that he was nineteen and needed to shave, it didn't have much of an effect. Ino sighed. "Look, I'm not saying that you should change your major. He just doesn't want you to do something you're gonna regret when you're smart enough to make it."

Deidara was busy shredding another piece of paper. "Fuck that shit. He can take his point and shove it up his ass. Ever since Mom -" his voice got choked. "I – I've been _trying_. God, I've been trying – I come home when I can and try to help out, but this _fucking bullshit –_"

Ino grimaced because it was better than crying. "I know," she said, quietly, because she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say.

"And then _you_ have to put up with it and it's _just not fair!_"

_Amen, _Ino thought. It really wasn't fair.

.

For the next two days, Ino sat with Gaara and his friends. Over those two days she received three mix CDs from Isaribi because she 'had potential for musical enlightenment,' learned exactly _why_ crunkcore was the worst type of music invented (next to country, that was), and was told _exactly_ how to handle was becoming known as 'The Sakura Situation.'

"Slip some cyanide in her drink," Haku said simply that Wednesday. Even Kiba gave him a weird look.

"That's your answer to everything," Isaribi accused, pointing with her fork.

"Where the hell is she gonna get cyanide? C'mon, man, bleach in her shampoo bottle. She'll go blind." Kiba grinned.

"It's a murder that looks like a suicide," Haku defended. "Perfect."

Isaribi snorted. "Please, you wanna get back at a girl like Sakura, you go after her boyfriend."

At that, Ino wrinkled her nose. "But that's _Naruto._"

Matsuri, however, was nodding in agreement. "Yeah – you don't have to even _do_ anything. Just make it look like you kissed him, or something." She grinned a grin that drudged up all her teeth. "Be the Iago to her Othello."

"No. Shakespeare. References. _Please,_" Isaribi begged. "I will _pay_ you."

"But still, it's _Naruto._" Ino couldn't get over that fact, though a plan was forming in the dark, deep depths of her mind.

"Hey, it could be worse," Kiba told her.

"It could be _you,_" Gaara agreed. That brought a bout of laughter to the table. Gaara didn't speak often – actally, he spoke more to Ino than private than to his friend sin public – but when he did, the remarks were hysterical.

"In all seriousness," Kiba said, "Why not? Not that I'm encouraging this – I love Naruto like a brother and he _really _fucking likes Sakura – but…"

"Would _you_ ever kiss Naruto?" Ino wanted to know.

Kiba thought for a moment, then shuddered. "I wouldn't kiss him even if he was a chick."

.

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**GaCK. Okay, I originally had maybe 500 words extra, but it's late and I'm just gonna post this. BUUUT this means that there'll be a new chapter very, very shortly. **

**Thank you to all you lovely readers and reviewers, you are wonderful for sticking with this and caring enough to comment about lack of updates. You rock, guys. **

**Asshats offended by pop culture references are asshats. ^_^**

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	15. XV

**Everyone who reviewed, you effing rock –'specially those who mentioned Ino's rather-neglected school/home life. Love you all and your feedback, it makes the story better. Awesome readers are awesome. **

***evil grin***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, the lyrics to **_**It's the End Of the World and I Know **_**It**_** are **_**by **_**R.E.M.**_

**.**

**.**

**.**

_It's the end of my A and I know it, and I feel fiiiiiiiiiiinnee._

Such were Ino's thoughts as she handed in her French test. She'd flunked that so badly – she already knew it – that she couldn't even feel sorry for herself. Language was the one subject that you couldn't bullshit, and Ino had been relying on her bullshitting skills since the second semester began. She hadn't bothered to check the school's website where grades were posted – originally it had merely slipped her mind, now it was sheer negligence. Or avoidance.

Whatever.

_Real life situation, right now, when I'm gonna need to know how to conjugate 'er' verbs. Right fucking now._

Back at her desk she concentrated on making out an acceptable reaction paragraph for _Othello. _She scrawled her thoughts based on the Sparknotes she'd read last night onto a piece of loose leaf. Sometimes Kurenai collected their work, sometimes she didn't; it was best to at least _do_ it so you had something to hand in, because she bitched about homework like none other.

At least she wasn't like Orochimaru, the anal-retentive Chem teacher that freaking assigned homework _every fucking night_ and collected it _every fucking day_, and half the time assigned things that they _didn't even learn._

At least Sasuke - the local Chem genius - wasn't against helping her (read: letting her copy.)

Fucking chemistry.

At the sound of the bell Ino wrote her name at the top with a flourish, tucked her pen into her ponytail, and made off to English.

Kurenai must have not felt like teaching that day, because a sub – the head of the English department, Jiraiya, handed out 'group work' that was 'to be collected upon the teacher's return' and told them to 'shut up and work with their partner.'

Naturally this was disregarded. Everyone knew that Jiraiya was a teacher in name only and that, _really,_ he was an aspiring writer (well, technically he'd already published a series of six bestselling adult novels; now, however, he was moving on to Young adult fiction, and needed to do research – so aspiring in a sense, Ino figured.) He didn't give a flying fuck as to what they were doing, as long as they didn't set anything on fire – which apparently had been a problem with one of his former students. That former student may or may not have been Deidara junior year. The details were hazy.

Case in point: as long as they pretended to do their work, Jiraiya didn't give a shit. Ino promptly pulled out a notebook, flipped to a random page, and proceeded to doodle. Chouji turned around and proceeded to talk, to make plans for the following Saturday.

Ino couldn't help but smile inwardly. Chouji was such a sweetheart; granted, half the time he was too oblivious or sleep deprived to notice the world around him, and Ino was about 97% sure that he'd choose food over a girlfriend any day, but when it came down to it he was _a really fucking nice guy._

He didn't ask any awkward questions, or drag anybody else into it; it'd just be him and Ino and Shikamaru and everything would be okay.

" – we'll go to Ringleader's, my treat. Shikamaru might come later on, he's not sure if he can make it."

Ino nodded. "Sounds good. What time should I get there?"

He chuckled. "Four, I literally _just_ said it. Man, Ino, you're pretty spacey today."

Ino shrugged. "I'm coming off of a French test, all spaciness is null and void."

He winced. "That bad, huh?"

"Well, let's also factor in that Madame doesn't teach."

Chouji nodded sympathetically. "That's true."

"Miss Ino Yamanaka," Jiraiya suddenly boomed from the desk. "You're wanted at Guidance."

_Keep your cool, keep your cool…_ "Okay."

Ino could _feel_ everyone's eyes on her as she stood in the front of the room as Jiraiya wrote her a slip. A pause, then everyone went back to what they were doing – Chouji offering her a weak thumbs up and Shikamaru inclining his head to the clock – a steady reminder that there were less than twenty minutes left in the period. Guidance couldn't do much damage. She nodded back at them and took the walk of shame out of the room, backpack left at her desk.

She half-contemplated blatantly not-going, but figured that it wouldn't be worth it. Shikamaru had a point – and if she dragged her feet all the way there, she'd be down to fifteen minutes.

_Wonderful plan._

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.

.

Ino could see twenty-two cars outside the window from her vantage point on the pseudo-sofa. She suspected that that number would rise from anywhere between twenty-four and thirty if she shifted to her left, but any more car-counting thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Shizune.

The woman smiled apologetically. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ino. Ms. Tsunade wanted to see me for something."

"It's okay."

Shizune _mhmed_ and seated herself on the spinny chair by her desk. "So, how's everything going?"

"Blech," Ino said before she could think about her response. She saw Shizune's eyebrows perk up; before the woman could question, Ino backtracked: "Kurenai said that, apparently my creative writing paper was unacceptable and she wants me to redo it. Because, you know, I totally have the time to redo an entire paper _with midterms right around the corner."_

Bullshitting a response had been surprisingly easy; actually, Ino realized dimly, that _had_ been bugging her. Shizune nodded. "I see. Kurenai _did_ mention something along those lines. You won that creative writing contest freshman year, correct?"

Ino felt herself flushing. She _hated_ it when people brought that up. "Yeah, I did. But it was like, whatever." The teacher, Asuma, had submitted the entire class' assignments; Ino hadn't expected herself to get anything, especially with people like Hinata and Kimimaro in her class.

She'd been proven wrong, however; she'd received an honorable mention and a fifty dollar gift card to Ichiraku.

Of course, because her school decided to announce things like these, everyone had wanted to read what she wrote, and _that_ was just _waaay_ too embarrassing, _thankyouverymuch._

"Well," Shizune said, "Maybe just a simple editing of the paper will do."

Ino nodded absently. Shizune continued, "I'm also concerned for you yourself, Ino. Some of your peers and teaches have come to me, asking about you. They're concerned."

Ino had to resist the urge to snort. _Five bucks says which 'peers' it was. _There was an unspoken rule: unless someone was legit holding a gun to their head, you _never fucking ratted them out_ to guidance. It just wasn't done.

_Ooooh, Sakura's asking for it._

"…Ino? Do they have a reason to be concerned?" Shizune was staring at her as if she'd tried to catch her attention for some time now. Ino shook her head. "Sorry, spacey. Tired, you know?" Ino faked a chuckled. "But really, no. My so-called-_peers_ should probably keep to their own business and leave me to mine."

The bell rang, and Ino stood. "And on that note, I'd like to head to lunch. It's baked potato day, you know." She grinned and turned on her heel, too-glad to be out of there – even though, in the back of her mind, she _knew_ it wasn't over.

.

.

.

"Okay so I _really_ fucking hate Kakashi," Isaribi said in lieu of a greeting. Her hair was purple this week, complimented by the purple and black striped leggings that she wore under her basic black ensemble of skirt and halter top.

"Her she goes again," Matsuri groaned, rolling thickly-lined eyes. Isaribi ignored her, instead opting to dismantle a spork. "A fucking _douchebag._" Purple dice earrings swung from her ears as she shook her head.

"What did he do?" Ino wondered. Part of it was to placate Isaribi – she was explosive, sometimes –and part of it was genuine curiosity. _She_ thought Kakashi was great; she had him for homeroom and history, and he wasn't one to follow protocol. At all.

"Fucking _sent me to guidance_ is what!" Isaribi impaled her fork through the heap of fries currently on her plate.

"Why would he ever do that?" Matsuri said to no one in particular.

Isaribi glared at Matsuri. "Fuck off, okay? Jesus, what crawled up your ass?" Another stab at her fries, while Matsuri scoffed and flipped her hair. "No, he thought that the poem I wrote for the literary magazine – you know, the one _he doesn't even moderate anymore –_ fucking thought it was too 'dark.' Jesus. What the _fuck_ is his problem?"

Haku, who'd just sat down, glanced between the seething Isaribi and the quite taken aback Ino. "Kakashi?" he asked.

Matsuri _mhmed._

Haku _aahed,_ and wisely changed the subject. "Where's Kiba?"

"Absent," Ino said. "Well, he wasn't in English last period." Ino, suddenly not very hungry, sipped her chocolate milk.

"Oh," Isaribi said, now (more or less) cooled down from her rant. "Oh! Hey – I found out why Pinkie's pissed at you,"

Ino perked up. "Oh?"

"Yeah." The girl munched on a fry thoughtfully. "Well, Haku did. Sort of. Seems like _someone's_ spreading shit about you spreading shit about her."

"It's a vicious cycle," Haku supplied.

Ino groaned and set her head on the table. "You'd think she'd have the guts to talk to me about it."

_She's probably tap dancing around the Dead Mother issue,_ the logical side of her brain supplied. Ino mentally snorted at that; if you were friends with someone _for the majority of your life,_ you knew how to deal with them. Sakura had to have a goddamn _reason,_ no matter how idiotic it was.

"Well, something was mentioned about how you've been unapproachable," Isaribi went on, peering at Ino. "But hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"I'm approachable! I'm _perfectly _approachable! Right?" she looked around for some kind of support. In receiving none, she planted her hands on the table. "Right?"

"Except," Matsuri began, "You're kind of not."

"What the – _how?_"

"Popular? Check. Temperamental? Check. Brutally honest? Check. Do you want me to continue?" Haku bit into his sandwich, chewed, swallowed.

"The fact is, Ino, you're kind of intimidating." Isaribi shrugged, as if that was that.

"Except Sakura's like, my best friend. Since Kindergarten."

"It is what it is, babe," Matsuri told her, sounding rather unsympathetic. Looking up, she waved at someone; Ino glanced over her shoulder to see that it was Gaara. He sat down and cast a questioning look over the table, eyebrow arched. "She's intimidating," Matsuri explained.

"She's in denial," Haku adde.

"I'm _not_ intimidating! Do you think I'm intimidating?" Ino looked at Gaara. He blinked, eyes darting over to Isaribi then back to her. "There is no safe way to answer that."

Isaribi grinned and Ino scowled. She stabbed her yogurt. "If I am found intimidating, then Jesus Christ do people need a wakeup call. I mean there's people like _you_," and here she gestured at Gaara, "Running around. With lighters."

"And porn," Haku added.

"In front of children."

That got a laugh.

"Seriously, where have you _been _all my life?" Isaribi asked no one in particular, bad mood forgotten.

Conversation continued as normal, which meant that Isaribi, Haku, and Matsuri bantered until the sarcasm was practically pooling at their feet, Ino watched and giggled, and Gaara offered biting remarks that were nonetheless affectionate.

That was, until he talked to Ino.

"Missed you in English," he said, casting her a sidelong look.

"Missed _you_ in English," Ino retorted with a grin, and _hoy shit is this what her friends had meant by flirting because holy shit she was so screwed – _

"Had to finish a Latin test."

"Got called to Guidance halfway through."

He made a sympathetic noise. "Almost as bad as extra Latin."

Ino snorted. "On what planet is that fair? The Latin kids get extra time on their tests, but the rest of us mere mortals only get forty-two minutes?"

"Amen!" Isaribi chimed in.

"You said it yourself: we are more than the rest of you _mere mortals._" Haku grinned.

"Or, you know, translating Cicero fucking sucks," Matsuri said with a shrug and a grimace. "How do you think you did?" she asked Gaara. She was met with a shrug and a, "I left the essay blank."

"Even with extra time, he leaves the essay blank," Ino said to the heavens. She shook her head. "Talk about counterproductive."

Gaara nudged her. She nudged him back.

The other three occupants of the lunch table stared.

The bell rang, and as they disbanded, Isaribi grabbed Ino's wrist and proceeded to drag her off to some unknown location.

"Hey –"

Isaribi tore open the door to the girl's bathroom and glared at a Freshman, who scurried out with a squeak. She made sure that they were alone, then rounded on Ino. "Start talking."

Ino blinked at her, thoroughly dumbfounded. "_What?_"

Isaribi was relentless. "You and Gaara. What's going on? And don't you _dare_ say 'nothing,' because _that_ was totally something."

Ino bit her lip and looked down, because dammit, 'nothing' was exactly what she was going to say. She looked at Isaribi and decided to play it cool. "So what if 'something' is going on between me and Gaara? And who said there was 'something' anyway?"

Isaribi sighed in exasperation and threw Ino a _look._ "Are you kidding me? He was just – you two were – Gaara _never_ flirts." Here she pointed a finger at Ino. "And don't tell me you didn't know that was flirting, because girls like you –"

"Girls like _what?"_ Ino bit back. She didn't want to get vicious with Isaribi, really, but this was trying her patience.

"Oh, you know what I mean. You know what you're doing – you're not stupid or naïve or detached from your emotions. You _know_ when you're flirting, and _that_ was most certainly flirting." She crossed her arms. "Case in point, Gaara doesn't make friends. He _never_ flirts, and then all of a sudden this - this _blonde prep_ comes in and he's acting like he might be interested, and –" she broke off. "I probably sound like a mega-jealous girlfriend right now, huh?"

"Yeah, you kinda do." Ino's reply was surly, mainly because she didn't take to kindly to being referred to as a _blonde prep,_ whatever the hell that meant.

The other girl smiled ruefully. "I'm not, I swear. Actually, I think the two of you would be cute together. I just wanted to get to you before Matsuri did. Or Temari." Ino was about to ask who Temari was, but Isaribi continued, "You know, as the designated female friend." She peered at Ino devilishly. "Soooo, do _you_ like him?"

Ino shook her head. This was _so_ not the time or place to have this conversation - especially when she had no idea what she felt for Gaara, if she even felt _anything. _He was a guy. He was a friend. He was a guy friend who had kissed her once and had never brought it up again. "When I find out, I'll let you know."

Isaribi clucked, and looked like she was going to say more, but she deflated. "Oh…right. You're probably dealing with a lot right now, huh? And as an added bonus, Gaara's like, _totally_ not your type, am I right?"

"You done psychoanalyzing yet?"

Isaribi laughed. "For today. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. And if Matsuri says anything, don't worry. She doesn't really like you."

_That's encouraging. _"Who would have guessed?"

"I like you, Ino. So, do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't hurt Gaara."

Ino sighed. "Look, I can appreciate what you're doing for your friend. But Gaara's almost what, seventeen years old? He can fend for himself, I'm sure." Ino didn't doubt that she'd do the same thing for Shikamaru or Chouji if or when they ever dated, but really, she didn't like being in the position she was now.

Isaribi's smile became grim. "You'd think, right? I know he's not sensitive, but…" she trailed off, and shrugged helplessly. "I dunno, he feels things. He's not good at emoting. But I can tell he really likes you. And someone like you could hurt him without even realizing it."

And with that she left, leaving a confused Ino in her wake.

.

.

.

In light of Isaribi's Lecture, Ino felt a little bad about making plans with Sasuke.

_Some things just can't be avoided,_ she reflected, though she felt a little shitty.

Oh, well. What Gaara didn't know couldn't hurt him.

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.

Before going home that day after school, Ino met up with Sasuke at Ringleader's, the café a few blocks down. A lot of the highschoolers frequented the café after school – mainly for the fantastic coffee and baked goods.

Despite Sakura's evident falling-out with Sasuke (and Ino's falling-out with Sakura) Ino had maintained a more-or-less friendship with the boy over the years. Her petty gradeschool crush was gone, replaced with nothing more than a fondness.

And a decided appreciation for his abs, but _that_ was another story.

Upon seeing her, Sasuke gave a head nod, which was probably the most she was going to get in greeting.

Ino sat down with her coffee. "How goes it?"

"It goes," was his answer. He looked bored already.

Ino mentally clucked. Every time she hung around Sasuke, she was reminded why she didn't hang around Sasuke. Being friends with him wasn't an easy thing – which explained why he and Naruto had been pretty close, she reflected.

_Don't get into that. _

But he'd asked her to come, so she stayed. He did that, sometimes – just asked her to show up at local haunts. Ino suspected that it was borne from a loneliness. She doubted that he was trying to replace Sakura with her – but she _did_ think that, in his heart of hearts, he missed her. Them.

Both of them.

They sat there for half an hour, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking. When the café became too crowded, and they decided to leave, Ino hugged him in farewell – it was just what she did.

And because Sakura had walked into the café about five minutes ago, and because Ino knew how to screw with people's heads, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, lightly, on the mouth.

"See you," she said with a small smile and a wink.

Sasuke, apparently unsure of how to interpret that, ignored it. "Later."

When she turned to go, she was greeted with the sight of Sakura throwing her probably one of the dirtiest looks she'd been on the receiving end of.

And Ino added insult to injury by smirking, flicking her ponytail behind her shoulder, turning around and walking away.

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.

When Ino got home, her father was waiting for her.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading over some letters, glass in front of him and bottle of whiskey opened. When she walked in he greeted her with a smile, but it was forced.

"You're home early," she remarked, casting a pointed look at the bottle. _Really, Dad?_

He mumbled something about a half day as Ino went about fixing herself some chocolate milk.

"Make some for me too, yeah?" Deidara asked as he came clambering downstairs. He swept into the kitchen, coat flaring out behind him. He took one look, from Ino to the glass to Ino's father, and swept back out.

"Ino," her father said, shaking his head at Dei's retreating back, "I got a call from your school today."

"That's nice," Ino said absentmindedly. She wasn't really paying attention, too caught up in her little victory over Sakura.

"Ino, what's this about you ditching class? And have your grades been slipping?"

_Shizune said absolutely nothing about ditching class. _

"Oh, so you're on _her,_ too?" Dei called from the other room. He strode back in and faced their father, arms cross. Ino turned around and sipped her drink, watching the two men over the glass.

Ino's father stood. "I'm not _on her_ about anything, I was just _asking_ her about her grades!"

"I failed a French test today," Ino supplied cheerily. She took another sip from her chocolate milk. "But it's whatever, I mean Madame doesn't teach anyway."

"Ino, that's exactly the kind of attitude you can't have –"

"There's _nothing_ wrong with her attitude, hm," Deidara supplied. "I went to the same goddamn school and she's _right,_ the Madame _doesn't _ -

"_Will you stay out of this?_" Inochi rounded on his son, slamming his hand down on the table. Calming himself, he turned back to his daughter. "Ino, I'm worried. Are there any problems –

And Ino felt herself snap. "_No, Daddy,_" she said, venom dripping from every word. "_Nothing_ is the problem. It's not like you're being a total dickwad to your oldest son," a part of Ino balked; she _never_ used that kind of language around her parents, much less _directed at them, _but she was too pissed to care, "Or drinking yourself stupid every fucking night. It's not like my _Mom_ is _dead_ and my family's _fucking falling apart around me_. _Of course there's no fucking problem!_"

Ino punctuated her last statement by slamming – and subsequently breaking – her glass on the countertop. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry.

She didn't look at her father – or her brother – as she stormed out the front door, making sure to slam it behind her.

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**Man, I love red herrings. And foreshadowing. **

**Oh - would you guys prefer shorter-but-frequent updates, or longer chapters (like 1000 words +) longer, but have to wait like an extra week? Let me know? :3 **


	16. XVI

**Many thanks to all of you and your reviews – I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Most of you seemed okay with 'publish as needed' so I'm just going with that – however, I will try to make updates more frequent. **

**Kudos to the reviewer who described this as a type of heroin. For whatever reason, that comparison tickles my fancy:3 **

**Disclaimer disclaims story. **

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In retrospect, storming out of her house during a snowstorm in only a sweater, jeans, and her fuzzy socks had probably not been the best idea. Within two minutes her socks were soaked through, thanks to the snow, and she was shivering. Ino didn't care, though, because her pride wouldn't allow her to go back to her house for _at least_ another hour.

She half-contemplated going to someone's house – Shikamaru or Chouji, maybe even Tenten, if she could explain herself – but no; she couldn't do that to herself or anyone else.

_Too embarrassing. And no one wants to deal with a crying _you.

She was a fucking _mess,_ nearly soaked through, feet frozen_._ Ino brought herself to a walk and exhaled, shoving her cold hands into her pockets. She could feel her makeup running, and she was pretty damn sure that she didn't have any cash on her, so –

-Wait. That was a bill in her pocket, fuck _yes,_ she could go to Ringleader's and get coffee and from there–

Dammit. It was a single.

For whatever reason, this made Ino's sobbing resume full-force.

_Shit._ At least no one was out on the street, right?

Ino could just _feel_ the universe laughing at her when a car drove by and slowed by her. _I swear to God, if it's some _stupid_ teenage boy –_

"Ino?"

_Fuck._

Ino turned, smiled a hundred-watt smile. "Hi!" she chirped, bring up a hand and wagging her fingers. She then turned her face and proceeded walking, because _dammit he saw, of all people why _him, _not now, please, he's gonna think I'm some kind of emotional wreck…._

"Hey!"

Ino didn't turn. She kept walking down the sidewalk, trying to salvage _some_ of her dignity. She could always just turn into the park if he kept bothering her – he'd have no choice but to go around, and by then she could backtrack and be gone.

_Even if my socks are already soaked. And the edges of my jeans. And my sweater._

But Gaara was smarter than that – Ino hadn't given him enough credit. The opening and slamming of a car door should have been her first clue – he ditched the vehicle in favor of walking.

_Dammit._

He caught up to her, took in her appearance. A line formed between his eyebrows. Ino braced herself for the questions: _what's going on, are you okay, what the hell are you doing - _"Are you cold?"

It was so unexpected, so mundane, that Ino didn't know how to answer it at first. She couldn't help it; she laughed.

"I guess so," she heard herself telling him.

This could explain how she'd ended up sitting in Gaara's car, draped in a leather jacket that smelled half like leather and half like some really, really nice cologne. Idly, she wondered if it was Gaara's.

Ino cast her glance over at him. He hadn't asked her any more questions – which she was grateful for – but she didn't know if that was him being naturally taciturn or considerately tactful.

Either way, she wasn't complaining.

She sat back and let the not-so-dulcet tones of some deathrock band or another wash over her, and really hoped that she could pull herself together before he wound up at his destination.

His destination turned out to be his house. Ino couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not – but when he led her into the house, offered her a dry hoodie and asked her if she liked hot chocolate, she figured it couldn't be too bad. Right?

"Sorry, if you were heading out," Ino mumbled over her mug.

Gaara didn't turn around from fixing his own drink. "Actually, I was heading home. Don't worry about it." He turned around, mug in hand. From outside, Ino could hear a car pull up. She saw Gaara's shoulders tense, and he cursed under his breath. Turning to Ino, he said, "My dad's just pulled in. It'd be better if we head upstairs. You don't mind?"

Ino blinked. _What's so bad about his dad?_ Taking it in stride, she shrugged. "No problem."

That seemed to relieve him. He wasted no time in leading her up the stairs and down a hallway. One of the doors was open, and she could see into a messy boy's room briefly, but then she was passing it and being herded into Gaara's room. He shut the door behind them, and again Isaribi's lecture came circling back in Ino's mind.

_Don't hurt him._

The room was only a little cluttered. The furniture – a nightstand, a bureau, and armoire – were dark wood. There was a bookshelf stacked over capacity, which was really a slab of wood mounted on the wall and an art desk, which would be almost Spartan neat if not for the sheer _amount_ of supplies on it. A stereo dominated one corner. The bed, donned with red blankets, was shoved in another corner, as if to make space for everything else.

'Everything else' being an obscene amount of books, sketchbooks, and CDs.

His walls – where they were visible between all the band posters – were a deep red-wine color. The ceiling was black.

All in all, it was an ocular assault.

Gaara sat down on his bed. The chair had a pile of folded laundry on it, so Ino took a spot on the hardware floor. She scanned the walls, trying to see if she recognized any band – the only one thus far was Nirvana, which was pretty much a given. Like seriously, who didn't like Nirvana? Besides her dad, that is.

Suddenly her own purple bedroom with matching walls and duvet and Spice Girls poster seemed very, very, teenybopperish.

"So…are you okay?"

Ino looked at him. Gaara had his hands wrapped around his mug and stared at her, waiting for a response. He was dressed in his usual garb – a shredded long-sleeve black shirt with mesh peeking out from underneath, and black jeans that were studded down the sides. He'd taken off his boots – they lay on the floor near his bed. She wondered when this became familiar to her – then decided that _that_ as most certainly not territory she wanted to think about right now.

Ino shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Most people lie when they say that," Gaara pointed out.

This warranted another shrug from Ino. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what you just said is totally pretentious."

He chuckled. "You…really are something else, you know that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ino was growing used to the silences between his words and hers; she figured it was something to do with her being quick and witty and Gaara being a guy, and thusly being slower by nature. And reserved. Very, very reserved.

So it wasn't really a surprise when he responded, even after she thought he was only going to give her that mild look. "It's a good thing."

Ino could tell that the conversation was going in a direction that she most certainly didn't want it to; a subject change was called for. She nodded at a painting on the wall. "Did you do that?"

It was a little surrealistic, a little macabre; it looked like it might have been the album artwork for one of his more sophisticated gothy bands, the style reminiscent of static. From what Ino could see, it was a hasty, almost impressionist rendition of an old city in the rain, with a figure under an old lamp post. Behind the city line, against the red sky, was a shadow. There was something about it – the colors of the sky, the jagged paint strokes, the way the figure walking towards you was walking – that tapdanced on the fringe of Ino's mind.

All in all, totally something Gaara would've painted.

Gaara followed her line of vision. "Yeah," he said.

"It's cool," Ino said, because it _was._ "Like, really good."

He narrowed his eyes at it. "Piece of shit, really."

Ino turned around and smacked him. Gaara scowled. "The hell was that for?"

"Shut up and just take the compliment." Ino shot him a look. "My brother does it all the time. Hates everything he makes, so he blows it up."

Gaara looked thoughtful. "I've never thought of that."

"_Don't_ get any ideas. Seriously, what is it with artists? Do they ever like what they make, or is it an act to keep up the image?"

Gaara snorted. "Any artist who actually likes more than one-fifth of their artwork has his head shoved up his ass."

Ino smirked to himself. _Wide open. _"Well, you're already an asshat, so what's your excuse?"

Gaara had been about to respond – some witty remark coupled with physical abuse, no doubt – but a deep call of _"Gaara!_" from downstairs cut him off.

"It's my dad," he said with a displeased look, standing up. "Don't move, I'll be right back. And Ino?" He threw the words over his shoulder, "Don't touch anything."

Ino gave a mock salute to show him she understood; the door closed after him, and she promptly reached over and began leafing through the nearest sketchbook.

Just like Shikamaru always had a book within reaching distance, Gaara seemed to have a sketchbook on-call.

This was how Gaara found her not five minutes later.

"Thought I told you not to touch anything?" he said wearily, plopping down next to her and peering over her shoulder.

"Yeah, well. I got bored." He sighed, and Ino knew that he wasn't even gonna bother fighting her on this one. "And you're actually pretty good. Kudos, Gothboy. You've got some substance."

_My God…his sketches are better than Dei's._ There had once been a time when Ino was certain that no student artist was better than Deidara. Evidently, she was wrong.

Though her brother was unrivaled in sculpting, Gaara had him trumped in sketching. Ino had never seen the medium done better. Gaara, it seemed, possessed a unique ability: he could render landscapes and cities people and animals just like a photograph, but he also had his own unique style that was evident in many of the drawings.

"Clearly you're trying to make me kill myself out of embarrassment," Gaara said. "That is from freshman year, _freshman year, _do you know – oh, shit."

Ino's hand was frozen on the bottom of the page. She knew he meant no harm – Deidara often used that same expression, and it was probably a meme or something – and Ino herself wasn't sensitive, gosh no, and…

_I'm sorry. I know. You weren't –_weren't what? Thinking? Being an ass? Trying to bring it up? It was really unlike Gaara to speak without thinking like that…

"It's fine," Ino said, and flipped the page. She gave a shaky exhale and willed herself to _stop fucking thinking about it._ Nothing would change, so why bother with the angst? Right?

Gaara was silent, but Ino could sense that he wanted to speak. It wasn't really a surprise when he asked, hesitantly, "Is that why you were upset?"

Ino bit her lip. _Fuck._ Why did he have to ask? Because now she was going to talk, and if she talked she might cry, and goddammit she would _not_ let herself cry in front of him.

"Hey," he said softly, catching her eye and keeping her there. "You can…tell me, if you want."

"…My dad and brother," she finally said. She meant to leave it at that, but the floodgates had been opened and she couldn't stop. "They're…they never got along, right? I mean, Dei's difficult, but my dad…he doesn't like seeing his oldest son wearing eye-makeup or being an art major. But it's _his life,_ you know? And Dad doesn't need to decide to come down on right now, either. Not to mention Kurenai – apparently my writing assignment wasn't up to par and she's making me redo it, what bullshit is _that? _Just fail the assignment and be _done _with it! And, now, Guidance and my dad are onto me too, 'cause apparently my grades are slipping –like, who's _don't_ during the end of the first semester? Right?" Now she was almost shouting. "And he's taking the moral high ground, which is total _bullshit_ because he's a fucking _alcoholic _because he can't handle that fact that his wife is _dead–"_

Here Ino stopped herself. _And I miss her. Oh my God, I miss her._

The realization hit her like a slap in the face.

Her mom – the only person who had a hope in hell of fixing this – was dead.

And she wasn't coming back.

Ino was clutching the sketchbook in a white-knuckled grip and her breathing was shaky, almost hyperventilating. "Sorry," she said, swallowing thickly. "I – I think I should head home now."

Ino could feel him frowning – feel, not see, because she was staring down at her lap. "Ino…" he said, prying the sketchbook from her fingers and placing it aside, "You know…you don't have to be such a – hardass all the time." His hands ghosted up her arms and went around her, and Ino found herself inside a fierce grip, held tight to his chest.

Ino looked up at him. "W-What…?"

Gaara shrugged and looked away, and holy crap was he _blushing_? Against her will, Isaribi's lecture came back to Ino: _He's not good at emoting. _"You don't have to pretend it's nothing, okay?"

Ino bit her lip. _Fuck. _ Tears welled up in her eyes, and she buried her face in his shirt. She did her best not to sob, and tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the second – or third? – time she'd wound up like this.

Breaking down.

With him.

And it was in that moment that Ino realize something:

She really needed to get her act together, because if Gaara actually liked her, and she didn't like him _back…_

_This totally looks like I'm leading him on. Or using him as emotional crutch. Probably both. _

And Ino knew that if she didn't like him, that even if she was only rather undecided, she should get up and leave _right now_ because it wasn't fair, here she was _crying_ all over him and he was nice enough to tolerate it.

But she didn't get up and leave.

_Weak._

She stayed there. She stayed there and tried not to notice that he was warm or the fact that he was running his fingers through her ponytail and down her back or the way he smelled because, frankly, those things were _distracting_ and kept reminding Ino that it wasn't just a _person,_ that in fact Gaara was a _boy._

Ino was saved from the inevitable fate of, god forbid, looking up and having to face Gaara by a loud knock on the door and the subsequent entering of a brunette boy who Ino presumed was his brother. "Ga – oh." He sounded contrite for about two seconds, then asked with a lewd, "What's going on?"

Ino bit her lip and looked down, desperately trying to quell her blush. Gaara was much better prepared, throwing a combat boot that looked – and sounded – like it was very heavy. It met its mark, landing on the floor with a thud. "Fuckin' _ow!" _The boy touched his face gingerly. "The hell's your _problem?_"

"Learn to knock," Gaara snarled, standing abruptly and shutting the door in his brother's face.

Ino couldn't quite tell if it was affectionate, siblingly abuse, or a genuine dislike.

"Dinner's ready, douchebag!" he called through the door.

Gaara exhaled, glaring at the door. "My idiot brother," he muttered. He cast her a look. "Sorry."

_For what?_ "It's okay." Ino stood. She was over the waterworks, thank God, and, if Gaara's clock was right, had been gone nearly two and a half hours – which was enough to satisfy her pride. "It's getting dark out – I should probably head home."

Gaara nodded. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine."

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Gaara grabbed keys off his dresser. "I'll drive you."

The door was near the foot of the stairs. Gaara let her out first, then shut the door behind him. Ino wondered why he didn't tell anyone where he was going, but decided against asking.

Once in the car, Gaara cranked up the heat and turned the radio down to a more tolerable level. "Sorry," he said as he backed out of the driveway. "For putting my foot in my mouth earlier."

Ino shrugged and played with a loose thread on her sweater. "It's no big deal. I'm just…" she made a sweeping gesture. "You know."

Gaara shook his head. "You ever feel like you're socially sabotaging yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

He frowned, concentrating just a little too deliberately on the road. "You know. When you know you shouldn't say something in front of someone – you _know_ to avoid certain topics and shit, but you do it anyway?"

"Like joking about untouchable topics to see who can't take a joke?"

"More like saying 'faggot' in front of the openly gay kid. But not insulting him directly."

Ino shrugged. "I – that's never happened to me. Maybe it's a guy thing?"

"Maybe you just never feel awkward, then."

Ino felt no need to correct him. _But…_ "You're usually good with the whole think-before-you-speak thing, though."

Ino couldn't be sure, but he muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, just not around _you._"

Ino leaned back against the seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard, not sure how to take that. _Explains a lot, though._ Gaara cast her a mild look. "No shoes?"

"Nope," Ino said, wiggling her toes cheerfully.

Gaara gave an amused sigh. "You totally stormed outta there, didn't you?"

"Mhm, complete with a door slam."

He made a turn, skidding just a little on the ice. "How dead is your ass?"

"I'm trying not to think about it."

"Killed, resurrected, then grounded for life?"

"That _would_ be appropriately dramatic."

"Well," he said, pulling up to her house. "In the event that this blows over, you're coming to the studio with me tomorrow."

"And if it doesn't blow over?" Ino asked, stalling.

"You're sneaking out then coming to the studio."

Ino chuckled. "Love how I have the choice."

"You're catching on," he said with a grin.

She smiled back.

"Well…" she looked out the window and wrinkled her nose. "Guess it's time to face the music."

"Alea iacta est," he said. His right hand found her left, and he squeezed it reassuringly. Ino frowned, more at the words than the action. "Translation?"

"You'll have to look that one up, Blondie."

Ino looked at him flatly. "You suck."

"Like the twenty-dollar whore that I am." He flashed a grin, then pressed the button that unlocked the door.

"You really _are_ trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Yes. Now, quit stalling – someone's giving me the evil eye."

Ino looked up. Sure enough, her brother was eyeing up the car from the front second-floor window…

"That bitch! Is he in my room? He's _totally_ in my room!" Ino clicked the seatbelt. "Ugh, brothers. Well," hand on the handle, she turned to Gaara. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."

A corner of his mouth tugged up. "No problem…Ino."

She was halfway out the car door when she remembered. "Oh - do you want your hoodie?"

Still half-smiling, he shook his head. "Keep it."

Ino smiled, and steeled herself.

_Time to face the music. _

_._

_._

_._

**I tried to avoid clichés, Dear Reader, really I did, but because this is filed under 'romance,' there are certain necessary clichés. A Distressed-But-Normally-Strong-Heroine running to (or being picked up by, in this case) her potential love interest when she's having a meltdown is one such cliché. **

**I apologize. **

**Also, much apologies for the lack of goings-on. I had wanted to have so much more by now, but this thing has a mind of its own. **

**So much for a neat little story…ehehe. ^_^;;**

**ANYWHORES. **

**Thoughts? **


	17. XVII

**PREAMBLE: Guys, you rock. Seriously. The feedback makes me blush and squee and think and mull over the plot, which is what feedback's supposed to do. Some of you mentioned that English wasn't your first language - so, that being said, if you have any questions about phrases or whatever, feel free to message me. :)**

**And for those who didn't get what Gaara meant by the 'freshman year' comment: the sketchbook that Ino was looking through wasn't recent, it was from his freshman year of high school, approximately 2 years ago. And among artists, there's the whole "Go through old sketchbook. Contemplate suicide out of embarrassment." Thing. In fact, it's a meme. And oh how true it is. **

**Long A/N is long and wordy, now, on with the story. **

**. **

Her dad had been nowhere in sight, but her brother had been _furious._

Naturally a verbal battle had ensued, concerning the nature of a) Ino's temper tantrum b) Why exactly she should've taken a cell phone with her c) Who, exactly, had she got that hoodie from and d) her overall, mind-blowing stupidity. Ino had counterargued that, a) You're a fucking hypocrite, b) Irrelevant c) None of your business and d) _You're_ stupid. Now get the fuck outta my room.

The last one, Ino would concede, was a little childish, but Deidara wasn't any better, stomping his feet and slamming the door as he left.

Ino lay on her bed and contemplated the ceiling for a solid fifteen minutes. Her phone buzzed; acting on instinct, she reached over and opened the message.

_Spring League: Fees due March 2. Checks made payable to Kohona Pirates. _

It was from Asuma Sarutobi, her swim coach. Ino made a mental note and shut her phone.

_Dammit. I forgot swim would be starting up soon, now that the winter season's over…_

Ino couldn't find it in her to be excited. She supposed she'd continue to do it, for the workout if nothing else. Besides – if she quit, _now,_ what would it look like?

_Like copping out 'cause Mommy's dead. Pathetic. _

Ino sighed. She did her best thinking while mindlessly doing laps, and lately she had a lot to think about.

Like, for instance, her feelings regarding a stupid, amazing, ridiculously talented, emotionally inept, did she mention _stupid_ boy…

Who had a penchant for chains and deathrock and makeup, and put up with her _stupid_ emotional instability, and didn't seem to get along with his brother or father, and was best friends with her ex-best-friend's boyfriend, and asked her for sisterly gift giving advice, watched _Phantom of the Opera_ with her once upon a time, and, horror of all horrors, didn't like _The Little Prince._

_Who kissed you and never brought it up again._

Yeah. That.

_Stupid boy,_ amazing in an utterly unamazing way. He didn't open her eyes to brave new worlds or give her butterflies or coax her out of her shell, and yet...

And yet he was something else, something new and something different, something with pretty eyes and a quick grin, something that Ino very much wanted to keep.

.

.

.

Sprawled out on her bed, finishing _Othello_ for English tomorrow – that was how her father found her thirty minutes later.

"Ino," he said.

"Mhm?" she said back. She didn't look up, kept her eyes focused firmly on the page. She really hoped her caught onto the '_I'm mad as hell at you'_ vibes she was emitting.

Apparently, dads were immune. "You were gone for quite a while."

"Yup."

"Your aunt stopped by."

"Kay."

"She wants you to call her."

"Kay."

Ino could sense him growing frustrated. _Well, let him. His own damn fault._

"Ino."

She didn't take her eyes off her book. "Mhm?"

And _that_ was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Ino, dammit _LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU._"

The sudden shouting struck a chord. Ino swallowed and, very cautiously, looked up at her father.

He was standing in her doorway, arms crossed, _scowling._ "That outburst was entirely out of line, disrespectful, and unacceptable. And this -this continued de_finance -_ You're grounded."

And Ino looked him dead in the eyes when she responded. "Kay."

His scowl deepened, but he seemed to accept that this was a battle he was bound to loose. He turned around and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "You missed dinner."

And Ino, being the little shit she was, got the last word: "Kay."

For a second, Ino thought that he might say more, but he didn't, and continued down the stairs.

_Ino: 1_

_Dad: 0_

She couldn't help the smug satisfaction that she felt. But seriously, he father was being – practically _infantile! _She was the teenager here, dammit! She wasn't supposed to be mature, she was supposed to angst and cry and be irritable. _She_ was the one who was supposed to be 'dealt with' not _him._

_Whatever. Screw dinner, and screw me being grounded. Like he'll notice if I'm gone._

Shortly after her father left, Deidara arrived. "Hey," he said, and Ino looked up. He flashed a grin previous anger forgotten, and jerked his thumb in the general direction of their dad. "You might not guess, but he feels totally guilty, hm. Sat there for like, half an hour just staring at nothing."

_And guzzling whiskey, I bet. _Ino snorted. "Good."

Deidara _mhmed_ and perched on the edge of her bed."Are you gonna be okay here? Alone, with him? Spring semester starts Monday, and I'm not gonna be able to commute as much as I'd like."

Ino smiled ruefully. "I'll be _fine,_ Dei."

Her brother nodded, but still looked hesitant. "You sure, yeah? Look…" he looked as if he was questioning his words, but decided to plunge on, "I don't want you doing anything _stupid_ because life is shit right now, okay? I…"

It was cute when he went into mother hen mode. "Gimme some credit. Do I _ever_ crack under pressure?"

A corner of her brother's mouth tugged up. "In all seriousness, though... You remember my buddy Nagato?"

Like hell. He was impossible to forget. "Konan's boyfriend, right? The manorexic ginger."

He nodded. "Funny you say that. He – god, I don't know if I should be telling you this," of course he was going to tell her this, he was a stress-out Deidara and she was his little sister. "– but, long story short, he's twenty-two and in rehab for anorexia, alcoholism, drug abuse - cocaine and heroin - and a pain addiction."

Ino's eyes widended. _God._ "Ho – _why?"_

Deidara shrugged, burying his hands in the pockets of the black hoodie he wore. "He flipped his shit one day and just snapped, hm."

Ino figured that there was more to the story, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to get it out of him. "Have you visited him?"

Deidara swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah. He – God, he was in a bad way. Looked like shit, hm, like a dead body. Weighs about ten pounds and has all these marks on his arms...And – and after, all I could think was, ' God, that could have been me.'" He shook his head, looking down.

Ino bit her lip and squeezed her brother's shoulder. _My God...Nagato was one of his best friends. _"I think the question here is," she said, slowly, "Are _you_ gonna be okay?"

His smile was rueful. "I'll be fine, hm. School will keep my busy."

"And Anko? How're things with her?"

Deidara was quiet for a moment, then said, "When your girlfriend is the only thing _not_ fucked up in your life, you know there's a problem, yeah?"

And Ino laughed, because _dammit, _he was right.

Deidara stood. "I'm hungry, hm. You feeling pizza?"

_Obvious change of subject is obvious,_ Ino thought, but she let him have it because he was a guy, and this much emotion was just too homo for him to handle. Or something. "Can it be buffalo chicken?"

His grin was quick, and showed off all his canines. "Hell yeah. Lemme get my keys."

.

.

.

The next day, Gaara was absent from their English class. Kurenai had handed out a pop quiz on the last act of _Othello,_ which, to Ino's relief, she'd actually _read_ the night before.

To Ino's even greater relief, it was a word-for-word copy of the SparkNotes quiz. Though she actually enjoyed reading Shakespeare, letting the complicated phrases and the cadence of iambic pentameter wash over her, she was a typical high schooler and like any high schooler worth their salt, SparkNotes was Ino's _Bible._

_Fuck yeah!_

And, since Kurenai apparently didn't feel like teaching that day, she let them leave after they handed in their quiz. Like, hell_ yes._

As she left the room, though, Sasuke – _Sasuke,_ of all people – grabbed her arm, tugged her to the side. The hallway was mostly empty in the middle of classes, save for the students that trickled out of Kurenai's class as they finished their quiz.

Ino arched an eyebrow up at him. "What's up?"

His look darkened, ever-so-slightly. "What the _hell_ was that?"

"What was what…?" Ino asked halfheartedly, trailing off when she remembered. She blushed, fiddling with the straps on her backpack. "Oh. That."

"Yeah. _That._" Sasuke crossed his arms and scowled a little. He was tall, a head taller than Ino; she had to lift her chin to look him in the eye. Frankly, Sasuke was too pretty – too wide in the eyes, dark in the lashes, delicate in the mouth – to be intimidating, but Ino _knew_ she was treading on thin ice.

"Forget about it," was what she said, feigning an air of nonchalance. "It was – nothing. Promise." She waved a hand, offered half a smile. Inwardly, though, she was banging her head against the wall. What had she been _thinking?_ It had been worth it, yeah, to piss off Sakura, but this whole confrontation-in-the-hallway thing? _Ugh._

She really needed to learn to sit down and _think._

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "You tryin' to piss someone off, aren't you?"

"What if I was?" Ino couldn't help it. She was on the defensive. She dropped her bag and crossed her arms, inclined her chin.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "You usin' me?"

Ino grit her teeth. She really, _really_ didn't want to lose the friendship she had with Sasuke over something like this. _Not now, anyway. _"Look, it was a one-time thing, alright? I needed to make an exit, and you were there. Sorry if you took it the wrong way, but I'm not planning on –"

"Ino?"

"_What?" _She managed to put all her frustration at being interrupted into that one statement.

"Shut up."

Before Ino could muster the indignation – excuse you, you did _not _tell Ino Yamanaka to _shut up, -_ Sasuke continued, "This isn't middle school, and I'm not upset. I'm callin' you out on it 'cause –"

Here the door to Kurenai's classroom opened, and he cut himself off. His eyes darted from Ino, to over her shoulder, then back to Ino, and the next thing she knew _Sasuke_ was ducking a little, pressing her against the wall and _kissing _her, mouth over hers and tongue between her teeth.

It was over almost as quickly as it'd stated, and, over the line of his shoulders Ino could see Sakura's quickly retreating pink head.

Ino couldn't help it. Like a ten-year-old boy just kissed by his great-aunt Tessie, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pretty blue eyes narrowed and glaring at Sasuke. "_Excuse me?"_

Sasuke only smirked, scooping up her bag with one long arm and handing it to her. "Maybe I have someone I wanna piss off, too."

And with a wink he turned and walked away, leaving a blushing Ino stranded in the hallway as the bell rang and students swarmed the hallways.

.

.

.

Tenten was waiting for Ino at her locker before lunch. When Ino saw her, she half-contemplated blatantly turning around – God knows she had enough to mull over already - but Tenten had already caught sight of her.

Resigning herself to (yet another) ugly confrontation, Ino continued to her locker with and air not unlike a Gypsy on a death march.

"Hey," Tenten greeted, neutrally enough. "Uh- can I talk to you?"

Ino shrugged and opened her locker. She didn't have the energy to be bitchy. "Go for it."

Okay. Maybe she had a _little_ energy.

In her peripheral vision, Ino could see Tenten fidgeting as she exchanged her books. "Look, I know it's not my business, but – oh, fuck it. Ino, are you okay?"

Ino was, frankly, taken aback. She swallowed, shut her locker and looked up at Tenten. The girl looked genuine enough, brown eyes a little worried, looking at Ino and biting her lip.

"I'm fine," Ino said, blinking. "What makes you say that?"

For a split second, Tenten looked surprised at lack of hostility. She recovered quickly, saying, "Just – well, you look like crap. And like you've lost weight, but not in a good way. And I know Sakura and you aren't speaking, and everyone else I've spoken to says you've been fine, which is kinda weird with everything that's happened…"

She trialed off, wringing her hands and biting her lip.

Ino smiled wanly. She was touched – Tenten was the token hardass, the tough girl; _guess she's tired of the drama, too. _ "Thanks for asking, but I'm doing okay."

Tenten nodded, shoulders relaxing. "And I know you and Sakura aren't speaking, but I wouldn't mind if you came back to the lunch table. We – Hinata and I – we're not pissed at you."

Ino inwardly winced, remembering what she'd said to the shy girl. _No matter how true it is, I still owe her an apology._ "Thanks, Tenten, but I think I'll just do what I've been doing. I don't wanna start shit, and…" she exhaled. "I dunno. You know?"

Tenten exhaled. "Guess you're right. But hey – are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, promise." Ino smiled. "Haven't seen your face in like, forever, though."

"Yeah! Hey, what are you doing after school today? Wanna go to Ringleader's?"

Ino almost lept at that – then she remembered that she had plans with Gaara. _Oh. Yeah. _"Sorry," she said apologetically. "I'm grounded. But how about tomorrow? My dad'll be out."

It wasn't that Ino didn't want Tenten to know about her and Gaara, but Ino _really_ didn't feel like explaining the past couple of weeks right _now,_ and really, there was probably enough gossip going around the school about her anyway…

_Thank you, Sasuke._

Ino shoved down the guilt that rose in her and flashed a smile at Tenten.

Tenten looked sheepish. "This is awkward, but I sort of have plans with Sakura and Neji tomorrow. How about Sunday?"

Ino deflated a little inwardly, but nodded. "Sunday's great. I'm meeting Shika and Chouji Saturday, anyways."

Tenten grinned. "Alright, I'll see you then!"

The girl's energy was infectious. Ino found herself grinning back. "See you!"

.

.

.

Lunch was spent in Shizune's office. The only comment Ino could come up with was _meh,_ mainly because her time was divided between waiting for Shizune, talking to Shizune, sipping her chocolate milk and thinking about Sasuke and Gaara and how _stupid_ boys were.

It didn't take a rocket surgeon to figure that anything with Sasuke, regardless of actual meaning, was a Bad Idea. Gaara had – more or less – showed her he liked her, right? And she…okay, she could admit it to herself: she liked him. He was exotic, interesting, a Shiny New Thing if nothing else. Ino wanted him in her life. Of that, she was positive.

Her feelings for Sasuke were much less vague. _Duh,_ he was like, the third hottest guy in school (the first being a senior named Bakura, and second a solid tie between juniors Ichigo, (who would be first if he wasn't so damn aloof) and Kimimaro, who tread the fine line between elegant and dangerous.)

But still, Ino didn't _want_ to kiss him.

Amendment: She didn't want _Gaara_ to find out that she'd kissed him.

You could figure out a lot about a person by kissing them, Ino mused, running her tongue over her teeth. For instance, Ino hadn't been aware that Sasuke smoked prior to today. The spearmint she also tasted must be to keep everyone guessing.

She wanted the taste out of her mouth _now. _Ino reached over and plucked a leftover candy cane from the bowl on Shizune's desk, popping it in her mouth. _Much better._

_This would be so much easier if Gaara could just come out and say he liked me._

Ino was very much aware that _she_ could also come out and say she liked Gaara, but she couldn't help but feel that it wasn't the right time, not now, that words would only spoil everything.

Ino didn't stay friends with her exes. (Which was one of the reasons she'd never date Shikamaru or Chouji.) She didn't want to date Gaara for a couple months, then have a messy break up, and wind up never speaking to him again.

She wanted him in her life, and she _refused_ to ruin it by taking their relationship where it wasn't ready to go.

_You like him. A lot. _

She sighed. Okay, so she liked Gaara. She could live with that. Sasuke didn't like her, but – apparently – was okay with using her to piss Sakura off.

She supposed that, for the time being, she could live with that, too.

.

.

.

After school Gaara was waiting for her outside. It'd been snowing since the morning, and had since piled up, soaking the fringe of her jeans and getting into her sneakers. Her breath formed clouds in front of her, and Ino was suddenly grateful for her thick hoodie.

Gaara fell into step next to her, was silent for a good three minutes, then asked, "How bad?"

Ino didn't have to ask what he was referring to. "At the risk of sounding like I'm twelve, I _totally_ won that round. Even if I'm grounded."

Gaara chuckled. "Nice one."

Ino _mhmed._ _Keep your cool,_ she instructed herself. _Business as usual. _"Hey, where you even in school today?"

Gaara grinned and shook his head. "Nope."

"Love how _you_ blatantly ditch and everyone's okay, but when I do the school goes apeshit and calls my dad."

Gaara snorted. "That's 'cause the number I gave the school for contacting my dad is actually my cell number. Feel free to awe at my genius."

But of course. Business as usual often encompassed shameless flirting.

"Kudos to you," she said, looking at him. He wore no jacket, just a shirt that looked like black Under Armor with holes cut in the sleeves for his thumbs, and regular black cargo pants. His left cheek was scratched and bruised, the side of his mouth cut and scabbed over.

It was such a dramatic change from his usual getup that it threw Ino off. She couldn't help but ask, "Why are you dressed like that? And what happened to your face?"

Ino ignored the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was _not_ getting butterflies from _him. _Nu-uh. _No._

Gaara looked down at himself, then back to her. He seemed amused. "Don't sound so distressed."

Ino snorted. "Is this some kind of crisis? Should I be concerned?"

Gaara rolled his eyes and said, "Ever hear of Parkour? And we're taking the bus."

Ino wrinkled her nose. Public transpiration, though not beneath her, was not her cup of tea. And ye_s,_ she'd heard of it. She wasn't _dumb._ "In the middle of winter?"

"Naruto's batshit like that."

Ino gave him an incredulous look. "You mean you and Naruto ditched…to go all TMNT around the city."

Gaara grinned. "Pretty much." He nodded at the bus that was coming their way. "The 67. C'mon, we gotta make the stop." He grabbed Ino by the wrist and pulled her along.

And Ino had to admit: Gaara was _fast._ He managed to still run as she slipped on the ice, his grip keeping her steady.

They made the stop in the nick of time. Ino flashed her student bus pass and sat down, backpack at her side. She wasn't quite panting, but the sharp winter air was less than pleasant, stinging her throat. "Wait - wouldn't you guys slip on the ice?"

Gaara sat down next to her and shrugged. Ino tried to not notice the proximity. "Not if you have the right sneakers. Besides - and I'm quoting Naruto here – it looks _cooler_ when the snow's falling." He exhaled, then elaborated, "Kiba's taping it for us. Naruto found some kind of contest online and decided to enter."

Ino nodded. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Kiba today, either. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Which is a nice way of saying, 'you three are fucking batshit.'"

"You said it, not me."

.

.

.

The feeling wasn't _ominous,_ not really, but there was definitely a heavy feeling in Ino's gut when they entered the old club.

_Not. Butterflies._

Up the stairs they went. The room was a little more finished now, half-painted a dark beige. Ino set her schoolbag down near the couch, and couldn't help but noticed a few things.

One: the couch had a pillow and blanket on it, like a makeshift bed.

Two: there was a pile of clothes shoved in a corner, right next to a pair of unlaced combat boots.

Three: a duffle bag, at the foot of the couch.

Ino looked at Gaara. Part of her figured she shouldn't ask, but she did anyway.

_Maybe this is the social sabotage that he was talking about. _

"Are you like, living here or something?" She looked over at him.

Gaara looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Just the night. Easier to ditch, that way. Now come on."

And like that, Ino dropped it, following him up into the studio; just as they entered, but before Ino could get a good look, her phone rang.

Ino fished it out of her pocket and glanced at the ID. _Shit._

"Hello?" she asked, coolly.

"Where are you, yeah? Dad's wondering and asking _me,"_ Deidara said.

Ino narrowed her eyes, thinking. "I'm staying after school. Orochimaru's oh-so-graciously going over some points in Chem for the test tomorrow, and since we all know my grades are absolute _shit_ –"

"Jesus. Okay, okay. I'll let him know." Deidara's voice was clipped, and with that he hung up.

"Yeah, love you too," Ino muttered at her phone. She felt a stab of guilt - Dei didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her bitchiness - but she was on edge.

_Thank you, Gaara. _

"Blatant lies are blatant," Gaara remarked, smirking.

Ino grinned. "Dei's also kind of gullible."

Gaara gave her a mild look. "On that note, sit on the stool." He inclined his head in the direction of said stool, which was placed by the not-so-boarded up window. The room itself was like a loft, and holy _shit_ were there paintings. Dozens of them, propped up against every available surface, some hung on walls, some painfully unfinished and some just sketches on canvases. The subject matter was varied, though the style was consistent. There was an easel, three stools, and a small table that held painting supplies.

"Wow," Ino breathed.

"Yeah, yeah, marvel at the shitty paintings. Now," here Gaara guided her by the shoulders, "Sit. And take the hoodie off."

Now sitting on the stool, Ino looked up at him, most certainly _not_ thinking that what he said was suggestive. "Explanation, please."

Gaara busied himself with gathering his paints and setting up the canvas on the easel. "Art final. Subject has to be a person, and the style has to be Realism. Done in oils."

_O-kay._ Ino decided not to dwell on the fact that she was pretty much modeling for him (because _god,_ the only thing that could come to mind right now was 'draw me like one of your French girls,' and everyone knew how _that_ ended) and instead asked, "Final? It's barely the second semester."

"Oils take longer to dry. And people are fuckin' _hard._" He ambled over, peering at her. "And your hoodie's not helping. Off."

_Unfortunate implications are unfortunate,_ Ino mused, but did as he said and tried not to blush _too_ hard under the scrutiny. He then began to instruct her, shifting the position of her face and arms. "Alright. Shoes off, too. Fold your hands – no wait, sit on them, yeah, keep them there, close to your knees. Elbows locked – like that, good. Curl your toes, and –" here he took her hair out of its ponytail and arranged it around her shoulders and face. She kept her eyes firmly on her lap as he fixed her hair, calloused fingers brushing against he face.

_Not. Butterflies._

Finally, he tilted her chin down, _just_ so. "Good," he said, "Now look up…"

And look up she did, right at him. He offered a smile and a wink, then went back to his sketchbook. "Stay still, and keep your face relaxed."

_God, he's even quoting Jack..._

Ino _mhmed_, which was about all she could do. She was positive she was blushing, _positive._

Gaara sat and sketched. He did about five different ones from different angles, moving the stool to different points around the room. At some point – probably around sketch three – he plugged an iPod in a dock.

Unlike the hard and heavy music Ino had come to expect from him (save for Spades, that is) what played sounded classical, almost. It was instrumental, at least, varying from faint piano to violins to full-out symphony orchestra.

_Gothboy, you are just so full of surprises._

You think it'd be awkward, what with the only sounds being the scratching of his pencil on the paper and the music and Gaara faintly humming to aforementioned music, but after the first ten minutes…it wasn't.

It was actually kinda…_nice._ Peaceful. Relaxing.

Well, once you got over the fact that he was staring at you and rendering your image on a piece of paper.

Finally, he finished. He stood and walked over, flipping open his phone. "Not to be creepy," he said, "But I need a photo for light references. And proof that this wasn't done freehand."

He snapped the photo, then walked over to one of the not-boarded windows and opened it. Ino didn't question, merely watched as he gathered the brushes and paints and pallets and bottles of god-knows-what on the table near the easel. Quickly, he sketched on the canvas; then the actual painting began.

Half an hour later, Gaara stepped back. "You can move now."

And move Ino did, stretching. "Jesus, that paint smells like a damn carcinogen."

"Probably because it is. Hence the open window."

Ino walked over, rolling her shoulders. "You done?"

Gaara shook his head. "Hell no. The way oils work you have to wait two days for the base coat to dry. It's all layering. And stuff."

"And stuff," Ino repeated, smiling. She stood on tiptoe and tried to peer over his shoulder, but Gaara was effectively blocking the canvas, peering down at her with a nameless expression on his face. "Sooo….can I see it?" she asked.

"It's not done."

"…aaaand?"

His mouth twitched. "You're not seeing it till it's done."

"Aw, c'mon! You made me sit still like, for_ever!_ The least you could do is let me _see_ it!"

"When it's finished, Blondie."

And then, an evil idea took form in the dark recesses of Ino's mind. Gaara must've seen something coming, because she grinned and darted to the right; the sketchbook was in her hands before Gaara could stop her.

He cursed and unsuccessfully tried to get it from her – and no longer blocking the canvas. Ino was distracted by another conquest, however, somehow managing to simultaneously evade Gaara and go through the drawings at the same time.

"Aww, look, it's a _puppy__," _Ino gushed.

"That's it Blondie, you're freaking _dead."_ And he effectively snagged an arm around her waist and pulled her almost-flush against him. Ino struggled – to no avail – and he plucked the stolen sketchbook from her hands, grinning down at her. "I win."

And this time Ino saw it coming. Her heart was pounding when he leaned down and kissed her, but it slowed ever-so-slightly when she responded in kind.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his neck, and his came around her, hugging her up to him. She stood on tiptoe so she could kiss him properly; he wasn't _that_ much taller than her, in fact Ino would say that he was the perfect height to kiss. He tasted like coffee and mints, smelled like sandalwood and the carcinogenic paints, and, now that she was pinned between him and the wall (how and when the hell had that happened?) and now he had his arms on either side of her, Ino discovered that Gaara was much more muscular than she'd originally thought (which had been somewhere around 'manorexic' and 'not at all') and _good gracious god -_

Some people just _got_ kissing.

Gaara, apparently, was one of those people.

…and the moment was successfully killed by his _damned phone ringing._

_Not cool. Not. Cool. _

Ino opened her eyes.

Gaara pulled away, his mouth leaving her lips slowly. With one hand he fished his phone out of his pocket, keeping the other one slung around Ino, who was still reeling from it all. He cast a look of disgust at the screen, then answered with a snarled, _"What?"_

"_Where the FUCK are you?"_ she heard, tried as she might not to eavesdrop. Ino stood stock-still, slowly retracting her hands from his neck and chest.

Gaara's eyes narrowed. "Out."

Ino heard a noise, then muffled sounds of a man speaking angrily. She felt Gaara's arm tense around her waist.

Gaara snorted, then, "No, sir."

"Tell Kankuro to do it. I'm busy."

He frowned, then looked downright _evil_ when he next spoke, voice absolutely _dripping_ with self-righteous sarcasm: "Well I_ would_, but, _gosh,_ I don't have my license…"

Gaara must've been hung up on, because he clipped the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, muttering something that sounded a lot like, _"Love you too, bastard,"_ under his breath.

At Ino's questioning look, he shrugged and said, "My dad's a first-class dickwipe."

_So that's why he's staying here,_ Ino mused, but decided not to pursue it.

He let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. Ino swallowed and began pulling her hair back into a ponytail, salvaging the situation by walking over to the canvas and looking at it. "Hm. Doesn't really look like me," she said, tilting her head. _Lame. The nice boy just kissed you and _this_ is what you come up with? _

Ino could _feel_ Gaara rolling his eyes. "And this is why I didn't want you to see draft one."

"Too late," Ino quipped, going for cheeky but executing 'immature.'

"Yeah, well, your face is hard to capture." He took two steps forward, hovering over Ino's shoulder as he loked at his painting. "Less Marilyn Monroe, more Audrey Hepburn, I think."

Ino wasn't really sure how to respond to that, because really, was there any way to compliment a girl more?

_Jesus..._

Well, he could've mentioned Natalie Portman somewhere in there, but _that_ would be laying it on a bit thick, wouldn't it?

Gaara made a noncommittal noise, then said, "Not that I'm kicking you out, but you need to be home by a certain time?"

_Shit._ Ino fished her phone out of her pocket – it was nearly six. _We were here that long? _"K_i_nda. I think. I mean, no angry phone calls yet, so it's up for grabs."

Gaara chuckled. "You up for coffee?"

Ino smiled, and turned to face him. "Count me in."

And he didn't bring it up - his dad or the loft or the kiss - but it was okay, because Ino had a warm, gooey feeling inside that had nothing to do with the coffee.

_._

.

.

**Oh, hello Nagato/Konan rehab!that I may/may not write...XD**

**I feel as if I should inform you that I have titled this chapter "Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls." X) TITANIC HOMAGE FTW. And stuff. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own. :P **

**The next chapter should be out shortly (Famous last words, right? HA. But seriously, there's like another 2000 words typed in the doc that I had to separate.) **

**Don't worry, guys, I haven't forgotten Sasuke, Sai, Sakura, or anyone else. There are just some disadvantages to sticking solely to Ino's POV. We find things out as she find things out, and stuff. **

**Yep, Gaara and Naruto are traceurs. Fits with the whole 'batshit ninja' theme.**

**Oh! The whole 'Team 7 breakup' subplot is further explained in the story 'crash&burn,' if you were wondering. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	18. The REAL Chapter XVIII

**Allow me to offer my apologies. **

**This is the REAL chapter 18; the one that I posted would be counterintuitive to where I wanted to take the plot – naturally, I realized this only AFTER the fact. (Maybe these people who write-then-post have the right idea.)**

**At any rate: please enjoy and know that it was for the sake of the story that I changed it. **

**However, the first part remains largely the same. **

**.**

Ino was ten minutes late, which meant she was twenty minutes early, but none of this mattered because this meeting was cutting dangerously close to the _Rocky Horror _timeslot on TV that she'd planned on watching with Tenten.

_Thank you Shikamaru. _

He'd called her and Chouji and asked them to meet him at Ringleader's; he offered no explanation why, but said that it was 'kinda important. Very troublesome.' (And because Shikamaru actually considered something 'kinda' important – well. In normal-person terms, that meant monumental.)

She ordered herself a peppermint mocha and went to snag an available booth, but by then Shikamaru was seated and waiting for her.

"You're in rare, _early_ form today," she remarked, sitting across from him.

Shikamaru shrugged. Ino caught sight of Chouji, waved him over.

He shucked his jacket and sat next to Ino. "Hey, Shika. What's that?"

He nodded at the manila envelope that occupied the table to Shikamaru's left. Shikamaru mumbled something inaudible, intent upon emptying sugar packets onto the table. Ino and Chouji shared a glance as he pulled out a credit card and began cutting it, shaping it into a line and –

"Hey." Ino snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Not that I want to interrupt your quasi-cocaine-cutting, but what's up?"

He flicked the envelope over to them. "It's in here."

Ino and Chouji shared a worried glance. Ino reached across the table and opened it, Chouji peering over her shoulder. There was a moment of silence as they scanned the page. "Wow," Ino said eloquently.

It was a letter from Akatsuki University, congratulating Shikamaru on impressive SAT scores and grades, and welcoming him to enroll in the fall semester on scholarship.

Chouji was more expressive. "That's great, Shikamaru!"

And great it was. No one, _no one,_ got into Akatsuki – much less a scholarship. It was far, too – three cities over, a good six-hour drive.

But like, _the best university_ this side of the country.

_If anyone could get it, Shikamaru could._

"Wait," Ino said, brow furrowed. "Isn't it a little early? You're only a junior…"

Another shrug. Shikamaru began making the sugar into artful designs with deft flicks of his wrist. "I have enough credits to graduate this year, if I wanted to."

"Three science, three social studies, three math, health, P.E., fine arts, language," Chouhi rattled off.  
"– but you need four English. You're only a junior…"

Another shrug. "I'll have five," he said. "I took AP, Lit, and Composition this year…"

Ino broke out into a grin. That was right – technically, Shikamaru was in all AP – English, Physics, Gov, and Calc – and most of his other classes were just a formality. "Well, _this_ is a cause for celebration. The lazyass manages to bullshit his way through high school _and_ get into Akatsuki U. I believe a round of cheap champagne is in order."

"Not to mention skip senior year _entirely,"_ Chouji added. "I've never heard of that happening."

Now their friend looked up. He rubbed the back of his neck. He made the announcement without preamble: "I'm declining."

Uh, what?

_What? _

"_WHAT?"_

"Dude!"

"_What?!" _

"Ino, sit down –

"I will _not –_" she slammed her hands down on the table.

Chouji clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shika," he said seriously, "As your friends, we can't let you do that." He cast a warning look at Ino and removed his hand from her face. She sat, staring over at Shika dumbfounded.

He shrugged again, slumping in his seat. "It's such a long drive. _And_ the courses would be super-difficult. It'd be a total pain in the ass. There's no reason for me to go -"

He cut himself off when he caught Ino's eye. She was staring at him, chin rested on her folded hands, elbows planted firmly on the table. "Shikamaru," she said slowly, pronouncing every syllable very deliberately, "You are being offered a full ride to the best university this side of the country…and you _want to turn it down._ You are a _genius._ You said it yourself; senior year would be pointless for you. No one's ever heard of this happening and _you want to turn it down._ Because it'd be too _difficult. Are you stupid?!"_

"Ino," Chouji said worriedly, "Don't shout – "

"No! He needs to see what's being _offered_ to him, Jesus H _Christ,_ he – "

"Shut _up!"_ Shikamaru snapped. He massaged his temples. "I _knew_ telling you would be a mistake."

Ino's pretty blue eyes became slits. _"Excuse me?"_

Shikamaru stood, hands planted firmly on the red tabletop. "You – _ugh_!" He proceeded to make a noise that wasn't entirely human, then plopped right back down, furiously cutting the sugar with his credit card. "Fuckin' _nag._"

Ino was about to retort – best friend or not, Shikamaru needed some freakin' _sense_ knocked into him sometimes – but Chouji clasped a thick hand over hers and shot her a warning look. Ino shut her mouth and sat back, expression surly, her entire demeanor practically screaming _this is NOT over._

"Shika," Chouji said, quieter, "Why don't you wanna go? Really?"

For a minute, Shikamaru looked like he was going to respond. Instead, however, he sat up and stormed away, muttering under his breath.

He left the manila envelope behind.

Ino and Chouji sat, staring at the mess of sugar and angsty afterimages he'd left in his wake. Ino frowned, exhaled, then groaned. "I handled that badly."

He didn't correct her, only gave an exasperated "Yup."

It wasn't like Shikamaru to be temperamental; usually his MO was grimace and bear it, perhaps offer an argument if the fancy took him; he wasn't the storming-out type – he wasn't _Ino,_ for chrissake.

"What I want to know is," Chouji said, reaching across the table to pick up the envelope, "Why he brought us here to tell us he got the scholarship if he planned on turning it down anyway."

"To start shit?" Ino offered sourly.

Chouji shot her a look but shook his head. "I mean, God, he knows taking it's the right choice. You'd have to be stupid not to, right? And he's smart. He'd _have_ to know that we'd want him to take it, so why bother?"

Ino stood. "He wants us to talk him out of it. Lazyass. And now I'm missing _Rocky Horror._ Wanna come over? Tenten'll be there."

Chouji sighed. He didn't answer her, but he stood. "I don't think it's a lazy thing, Ino. Shikamaru just doesn't have his shit together."

Huh…well. That kind of made sense. Really, though, how many people actually _did _ have their shit together? He'd probably thought that he'd have at least another year before he had to make a decision, but even _he_ had to know that he'd have some of the biggest, most selective schools eating out of the palm of his hand. But…early acceptance to Akatsuki? There were kids _begging_ for that. And Shikamaru…

_He's scared shitless of the future. _

Ino startled herself – it rang truer the more she thought of it. "You think he's scared?" she asked Chouji as they made their way outside and to Ino's. Snow crunched under their feet; the clouds above were low and deep gray, muffling the world – very wintry, for February.

Chouji ducked under and overhanging branch, and when he answered his words were carefully measured. "I think that he wasn't really expecting this."

"So? No one expects the really good things in life. He should be – I dunno. _Not_ all apathetic."

"Try to put yourself in his place. He thinks he had a good year of time to just dick around, then _boom._ College comes to _him._ For _free._ Now he's gotta leave everything behind and move across the state."

Okay. _Maybe_ Ino could see that. But… "So what? Life moves _on,_ Chouji. It's what happens. Shikamaru isn't stupid. Going away to University isn't the end of the world."

Chouji shrugged. "You know that. I know that. So does Shikamaru. But he doesn't take to change well. Now he's leaving his two best friends behind."

They turned onto Ino's street. Ino sighed, cracked her knuckles. "When you put it like that…"

"Kinda scares you shitless, huh?"

Ino swallowed. "I don't want to think about it." This was just too _Dead Poets Society-_esque for her.

They fell into silence as they turned up Ino's driveway and walked into her house. She finally broke it, asking, "Food?"

In rare form, Chouji declined; Ino wasn't very hungry herself, so she plopped on the couch, turned on the television, and tuned into _Rocky Horror._

"You know," Chouji said about twenty minutes in, "I never got how this became so popular."

"Blasphemy."

"No, seriously think about it – it's a guy – dancing around in a corset turning people into sluts and making himself a love slave. It's _weird._"

"_You're_ weird," Ino said, throwing a pillow at him. "Now hush, this is my favorite part!"

And Chouji hushed and Ino watched, but in the back of her mind she was worried: about her brother, about Sakura, about _Sasuke,_ about Gaara, about her father – and about Shika.

Because if Shikamaru – genius, perfect SAT score Shikamaru – was worried about his future…

Where did that leave the rest of them?

And she knew that Chouji was thinking the same thing.

.

.

.

Sunday was lazy, gray, and just the relaxation Ino needed. Tenten had canceled, pleading _family Sunday dinner_ but probably meaning _alone time with Neji._ Ino had been ticked off a little at first – hadn't Tenten always been the one to say 'put your crew first?' but it hadn't stayed – she was immensely enjoying herself, bumming around and brooding over her grades and Gaara and Shikamaru and life in general.

So, naturally, when 3PM rolled around and she was still in her jammies, Gaara called her. He asked her to come to over, to settle a debate on color scheme.

At first Ino refused, pleading laziness and the Sunday Clause (which she'd just made up on the spot.)

But then he asked what the Sunday Clause was and actually said please and offered to buy her coffee, and at this point Ino couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach or the stupid smile on her face. So she (grudgingly) told him to wait, that'd she be there in fifteen.

It was times like these that Ino was glad she was a night-shower-er; her hair was already dry and not-nasty, and all she needed to do to get ready was fix her hair and put on makeup and pick out an outfit (which took longer than it should, she'd openly admit. She settled on a purple long-sleeved shirt and artfully faded jeans, chosen specifically because it looked good without trying.)

She grabbed her phone and as she searched for her keys, couldn't help but think that the house seemed really empty without Dei and her mom -

Ino bit her lip and stopped, hugging herself. _No. Not now, when you're about to go out. _

She spent the next five minutes collecting herself; finally, she left.

Gaara's house was a quick walk away. He'd told her to just come in, and as Ino did just that she understood why – between the blaring music and the three arguing men, no one would've heard her knock.

The young man on the right noticed her first. "Ah, you're here," he said, striding towards her. "Now tell everyone that I'm right."

His hair was the first thing she noticed – it was an odd trifecta of blond, black, and magenta spikes. The second thing she noticed were his eyes – deep set and intense and – _red?_

_Oh. Contacts. _

Ino blinked as she tried to process him.

He was tall, slender; his skin was slightly tan, even in the winter. His eyes were rimmed with (dare she say) a tasteful application of kohl, and each ear was pierced once. He was decked to the nines in leather – pants (tight), belts (two) boots (knee-high, with chains and buckles), jacket (unzipped), collar (choker?)– topping it off with chains and cuffs and spikes (in various places). His black shirt was tight and low-cut, revealing the fine lines of his collarbones and throat, the ink of a tattoo peeking over his collar.

Two necklaces – one that appeared to be a dogtag, another that looked like a pyramid – dangled somewhere near his belly button.

Ino blinked again, and said, lamely, "Um, hi?"

He ushered her in, hand on the small of her back. "I'm Yami, and these two idiots have no idea what they're talking about."

Ino nodded. She was surprisingly…not overwhelmed. In fact, she liked this guy instantly – no matter that he looked like a bondage slave. "Ino," she said with a smile.

Yami brought her to the kitchen. Gaara stood off, arms crossed. He nodded at Ino in greeting, then went back to scowling.

The guy standing next to Gaara was a giant in his own right, a full head taller than Yami and buff as hell. He was pale, with dead-black hair and more metal than skin in his face. A discarded trench coat was thrown over the chair beside him.

"This is Ino," Yami announced, "And she's going to tell you that I'm right."

"Shin," the guy said with a smile, and an eye roll in Yami's direction. To Ino, he said, "You're the girl from the painting."

He extended his hand across the table. Ino went to shake it, even though _really -_ no one shook hands anymore. It progressed as any normal handshake would, until he stooped down and kissed her knuckles. Ino, frankly, had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that. She opted for averting her eyes and retracting her hand, all the while wondering if this guy had ever been committed. Or tested.

_Is he for real? _

"Shin, stop harassing the poor girl – who, by the way, is about to tell me I'm right."

Ino cleared her throat, trying her best to appear non-flustered. "About what?"

"Color schemes," Yami said with a flourishing gesture at the table. On it sat dozens of paint swatches; some colors were circled in sharpie with words like _secondary_ written on them; others were cast aside. "We can't seem to…_agree_."

"I'm just sayin'" Shin said, "No straight male would be caught dead in a club that has a _neon_ color scheme."

"It's not even a club," Gaara added. "It's a _café._ Doubly unacceptable._"_ He reached over and changed the stereo, turning it to a slightly more tolerable volume and genre.

Shin scowled. "Can we knock off the pussy music?"

"My house. My music."

"You're such a little shit, you know that?"

Yami gave Ino a plaintive look. "See what I have to live with?"

"I know. They're just terrible, aren't they?" She was inclined to agree with Yami just because he was so freaking endearing – like, seriously, how the hell could a person be that charming? – but then Gaara took a break from his argument and actually showed her the color swatches.

_Okay, who the hell decided that neon green, chartreuse, and crimson looked good together?_

It was garish at worst, gaudy at best, and neither were terms you wanted to apply to an artsy café.

"Hey, Yami?"

"Yes?"

"Are you…colorblind?"

Shin laughed. "I'm telling you, he's Goth only 'cause he only sees in black and red."

"You," said Yami stiffly, "Are a fucktard."

Gaara uncrossed his arms and lay his hands flat on the table. "Case in point. You've got two artists and a girl telling you it's a bad idea."

"I _own_ the building –"

"You're _fucking up_ the building – "

"I'm not saying neon _colors_ are a bad idea," Ino interrupted. _Someone,_ she figured, had to defend Yami. "I'm saying your _choice_ is bad."

"Terrible," Shin chimed in.

"Abhorrent," Gaara finished.

Yami glared. "You know, you don't have to be a human dictionary."

"Actually, I'm being a human thesaurus."

"You," Yami declared, "Are a little shit."

"A contextually correct little shit."

Before Yami could retort, Shin cut in. "Just play it safe and use earthy tones, man –"

"But I _want_ bright colors!"

While they bickered, Ino was placing together some color swatches, in her natural element among both arguing and interior design. _Primary green…secondary yellow…pink and orange….with some purple…_ _Geometric shapes_ was written on the back of one of the swatches – in Ino's mind's eye, everything was coming together and looking _very_ cool.

Gaara materialized next to her. "Got an idea?"

"Just fixing the colors."

Gaara _hmmed,_ and took out _Yellow Lemonade _and replaced it with _Laser Lemon._ Ino nodded; Yami peered over her shoulder. "Huh," he said. "It actually…"

"Looks better?" Shin snarked, "We know."

"The red was throwing it off," Ino said, ignoring him.

Yami's eyes lit up. "Yes," he said. "Neon shapes on black – we'll have a black light, and white accents all over the place – we can get one of those rugs to go with it…"

And he went off, breaking out a notebook and writing everything down in a thin, slanted scrawl. Ino stood back and smiled at his mirth, eventually falling into conversation with Gaara and Shin. She sort of zoned out – they were talking art, it seemed – but then Shin was peering at her, tilting her chin down and to the side. "You're right," he said after a minute, "More Hepburn."

.

.

.

When Gaara offered to walk her home, Ino accepted with less of the usual 'no-you-don't-have-to-really-okay-well-then-if-you-want-to-sure' bull, mostly because she was anxiously hopeful that he'd kiss her again and she could find out where they stood. (Sure, she could always ask him…but that was too direct. Or she was too nervous. Whichever.)

However, the hope was tempered by nervousness – what if he _did_ kiss her? What then?

She pushed the thoughts away as she idled in his living room while he went to retrieve his coat, looking at the photos on the mantle. There were several - most of Gaara and his siblings; there was one of the entire family, taken when Gaara was maybe two - probably a Christmas card. She recognized his brother – a sturdy-looking guy about Dei's age – and his sister, a spunky-looking blonde girl.

Two photographs in particular stood out to her: one of a stern-looking man with dark brown hair, in the telltale black Marine uniform; the other of a gentle-looking young woman with light blue eyes, grinning widely at whoever was taking the picture. The frames were connected adjacent to each other. Ino assumed that they were Gaara's parents.

"What're you looking at?" Gaara asked, walking up behind her.

Ino couldn't help but feel that she'd just been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. She swallowed. "Proof that you're a natural ginger."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Ino shrugged, and said for the sake of conversation, "My dad was a Marine, too."

Gaara nodded, like he understood. "Mine still is. He's retiring, though. After his next tour." He paused, then gestured to the other photo. "That's my mom."

She'd figured as much. "You have her eyes," Ino said, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was standing really, really close.

"I guess," he said with a shrug, opening the door. "She...died. When I was two."

Ino hadn't known. _And how do you respond to that?_ "Oh. Oh, I'm...I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Can't miss what you don't remember, right?"

There was a pregnant pause; Ino knew he hadn't meant to be blunt, or crass, but she felt a twinge in her chest. "Guess so," she said, covering up the awkward by remarking on the obvious. "You're friends. Are they for real?"

The exasperated sigh was answer enough. "Which part?"

Ino exhaled, stepped outside. Her breath was white in the cold. _I don't know, all of it? _"Okay. Okay. You've got some weird friends, you know that? Like, weirder than _you._"

Gaara rolled his eyes in an _'I know'_ sort of gesture. "Don't be fooled. Yami's a genius. Double major – graphic design and engineering. Taking business courses, too. He's the guy who owns the building."

"If he's so smart, why couldn't he tell the his color scheme sucked?"

Gaara chuckled. "In all honesty? He was probably bored."

"…Are you serious? He couldn't just, I dunno, go see a movie or something?"

"He's batshit like that."

Ino exhaled. "Then what's Shin's excuse?"

Gaara regarded her with an amused expression. "He actually hates everybody. That was him trying to be nice…because I asked him."

_For you_ went unsaid.

_O-kay._ "What's Yami doing with the building, anyway?"

"Grandfather left it to him. He wants to turn it into a kind of café – but he doesn't have the time to do it by himself. Get this – he wants to call it 'Miscellaneous Paraphernalia."

"That's almost as vague as this other thing."

He chuckled. "Right? Well…" he trailed of, and they came to a stop in front of her house. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Still owe me a coffee," Ino reminded him, grinning.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Dammit," he said good-naturedly, "Thought you forgot."

"Not a chance, Gothboy."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"You brought this upon yourself when you interrupted my Sunday."

He sighed, but didn't seem too put out about it. "Tomorrow, then."

Ino grinned. "I'll hold you to it."

.

.

.

It bothered her, Ino decided.

It bothered her a _lot._

The first time he'd kissed her, it'd been an accident. She was willing to chalk it up to that because, at the time, the idea that Gothboy might like her was more than a little squicky.

But now they were two for two and it was getting a little ridiculous. Flirting, Ino was fine with – it was a knee-jerk reaction for her, not to mention that she was a flirt to end all flirts. She could date, and mess around, and hookup, and be friends – but having all in one was a little much _especially when the initiating party pretended it didn't happen. _

She was well aware that these things worked both ways – but _still._

Ino wrinkled her nose as she thought about the walk home. She'd been prepared to go alone, but Gaara fell into step beside her and really, she couldn't just say 'no, I don't want you walking me home,' because well, she kinda _wanted_ him to. She figured that maybe he'd try something, maybe kiss her; at least _mention_ something, right?

No.

Nothing.

Ino had been a strange mixture of disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because she liked him and didn't like dancing around everything; relieved because she wasn't sure if she could handle something like that right now.

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

In her heart of hearts, Ino knew that she couldn't handle a relationship – or anything of the like – right now.

_Not to mention,_ she thought, _that whole situation with Sasuke. You have to end that before…_

Yeah. And she'd have to deal with Sakura, and her dad, and her grades…swim was starting next week…

Ino groaned to herself and flopped onto her bed, squeezing a pillow to her stomach. Sometimes she wished she was the only person in the world – no one else who could call her on her crap, or situations to deal with, or parties to throw their very unwanted two cents in…no stupid boys with weird music tastes and pretty eyes making her like them…kissing her and not bringing it up and leaving her hanging and -

Ino swallowed around the lump in her throat. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd tell him - she'd tell him she liked him and couldn't do this anymore, that she needed to get her shit together before she started anything with him…

_Tomorrow,_ she promised herself.

Tomorrow.

.

.

.

Ino ducked into English class that Monday and tried her best not to make eye contact with anyone. Eye contact was a sign of aggression – one that Ino often used – but today she was just not feeling it. Between her father's stony silence and general sucking at being a parent and Sakura and her looks and general sucking at being a best friend, she was so not ready to deal with Shikamaru and his sucking at having his shit together.

Or Gaara and his sucking at _everything. _

Yeah. _That. _

She felt guilty. She felt _so fucking guilty_ for something she hadn't even done yet. She would do it, though – she'd almost changed her mind, but...it wasn't fair to either of them.

_And God forbid Gaara finds out about Sasuke before I talk to him…_

That fear lurked in the back of her mind because she knew, she _knew,_ that he wouldn't take well to that.

At _all. _

The day just wasn't turning out in her favor.

And Kurenai just _had_ to go and make it even _better_ (here Ino would like to stress the sarcasm) by announcing that the project for this quarter would be a group effort.

_Fuck._

At least Kurenai hadn't already picked the groups; she was leaving that up to chance, passing a basket with folded papers around the room.

Chouji turned around to pass the basket to her; Ino plucked one out (fingers crossed) and nudged it over to Gaara.

She unfolded the paper, smoothed it out. _The Book Thief, Markus Zusak _was written on it. Ino frowned down at it. She distinctly remembered reading that sophomore year, and also remembered that it was over five hundred pages.

IE, a frakking big book.

_Great…_

Chouji turned around. "_Hobbit?"_

Ino shook her head. _"Book Thief."_

Ino could hear the kids discussing their books, sniffing out probable groups. Kimimaro, she heard, had _Catcher in the Rye._ Tenten, to her displeasure, had _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn._

And _some_ lucky duck – Ino wasn't sure who – had _The Little Prince_ and _The Outsiders. _Two, probably because both were small.

"Four of you to a group – whoever has the same book title," Kurenai explained. "These are books that you should already have read before. You are to read the book and offer a comprehensive review featuring all of your separate opinions. The exact rubric is being passed around. _Read it_ before you ask any questions. You'll have class time tomorrow – I'm writing the groups down today so – _no switching papers, _Mr. Uzumaki!"

"But it's like, five hundred pages!"

Kurenai peered over his shoulder. "Actually, _The Hobbit_ is three hundred and three pages. Now – who else has it? Come on now, raise your hands."

There was much grumbling and groaning and scraping of chairs.

As the group for _The Book Thief_ was called, Ino couldn't help the feeling of growing dread.

Gaara.

Sasuke.

And Sakura.

_Fuck my _life.

.

.

.

Lunch was a relief, at least – Isaribi's chatter always managed to brighten Ino's day.

She was just beginning to relax when Sasuke sauntered over to Ino and planted his hand on the table, leaning down. He was awfully close to her, just this side of being overbearing – but since this was a friendly, public, guy-on-girl situation, it was more flirtatious than anything else.

"Thursday. What're ya doin'?"

Ino shrugged. "Nothing. Why?"

"Wanna get our share of the book report outta the way?" he cocked his head to the side, smirked a little.

_Do you even know what subtle is?_ "Works for me."

"Great." He touched his hand to her shoulder and actually _winked,_ then straightened. "See ya later."

"Tootles," Ino said absently. Her brain was too busy going _arrgh! _and wondering why everything blew up in her face.

And of course, the worst of it wasn't over: three _very_ curious-looking (and one suspicious-looking) teenagers were staring at her.

"Um," Ino said eloquently. She was, in part, saved by the arrival of Gaara – but it was a Catch-22 because _naturally,_ he would've seen the entire encounter and have formed his own conclusions.

Ino swallowed and resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. _Just breathe._

Gaara frowned at Sasuke's retreating form. "You and Uchiha?"

_Play it off. _Ino snorted. "God, no." Feeling that that wasn't sufficient, she added, "He's like, _so_ not my type."

"You have a type?" This came from Isaribi, who was leaning forward and holding her plastic fork at a delicate, inquisitive angle.

Ino backtracked. "No. But if I did, he wouldn't be it."

"Please," this came from Matsuri. _"Everybody_ has a type."

"Actually," Haku added, "Sasuke looks like that guy you dated last year."

Ino felt her face heat up. _Not this conversation. Not now. _"Except for the part where I don't like Sasuke."

Isaribi throroughly ignored her and began counting off her fingers. "Tall, dark, angsty –"

"Can we change the subject?" Ino said, inwardly wincing at her strangled voice. "Please?"

"You forgot 'manorexic,'" Matsuri added.

Isaribi nodded. "Manorexic, pale – "

"If you shut up," Ino said, figuring it was a solid last-ditch effort, "I will buy you food."

Almost immediately, the chatter ceased.

_It's a wonder what teenagers will do for free food…_

"Well?" Kiba leered, leaning over the table. "Pay up!"

Ino made a noise. "Fine. You win."

There was a moment where Isaribi crowed and Matsuri grinned and Haku and Kiba watched amusedly; Ino made a pretense of digging around in her wallet and throwing a five on the table because she was too much of an embarrassed coward to meet Gaara's eyes.

The silence settled heavily over her and Gaara as the four of them stormed the lunch line.

"I feel like I should apologize," Gaara said at length, exasperation coloring his tone. "For them."

"What about us now?" Isaribi sauntered up, cookie in hand and Haku in tow.

Gaara gave her a flat look. "I'm sorry you're all so socially inept."

Isaribi sniffed. "Spell 'inept.'"

Haku gave Isaribi an _are-you-frakking-kidding-me_ look. "Fourth grade called, it wants its insult back."

"As you can see," Matsuri chimed in dryly, "The collective maturity is worryingly low."

Kiba grinned at Ino. "Welcome to the asylum, babe. Enjoy your stay."

"Asylum?" Ino snorted. "More like the freaking lobotomy ward."

"Spell 'lobotomy.'"

"… fuck _you._"

.

.

.

It was one of the rare moments where Ino hadn't missed the bus; in fact, she was running one hundred percent on time. Gaara was waiting for her at her locker, as per usual; Ino steeled herself to bring It up, to actually talk to him, but he beat her to speaking.

"Ready?"

Ino looked at him quizzically, opening her locker. "For what?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Coffee, remember?"

Oh, yeah. That. In her semi-anxiety, Ino had forgotten. "Right – Ringleader's?"

"Yeah. Good news – we're driving."

In any case regarding Gaara's driving, 'good' was a relative term – Ino did her best to refrain from remarking on this the entire ride there (instead trying to devise a master plan to let him off _gently_), but when they arrived she said, "You are _so_ lucky seatbelts were invented."

"You think _you_ can drive better?" he challenged amicably, actually _holding the door open for her_ as they walked into the shop.

"Not _that,_" Ino muttered. The only thing she'd successfully driven had been her dad's pickup truck. She couldn't drive cars for shit – it was the paranoia of being so close to the ground and _small._

Gaara left it at that.

Sitting in the booth, coffee in hand, Ino forced herself to relax. She traced invisible lines over the red tabletop, sipped her coffee and exhaled.

"- you even listening?"

Ino looked up. Gaara was regarding her with the sort of concerned exasperation people wore when they'd been trying to get your attention. "Sorry. What?"

"You're like a million miles away."

"Just thinking."

He _hmmed. _"How are we supposed to do this English project?"

She didn't need to ask what she meant. "Take the zero?"

He gave her a flat look. "You could always make up with Sakura."

"You could always get along with Sasuke."

He snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"Case in point. Besides, I'm already – apparently – working on it with Sasuke. Just do it with her, then we'll combine it all. Or whatever."

"Except I'm pretty sure Sakura doesn't like me very much."

"She's speaking to _you,_ isn't she?"

"…point."

Ino sipped her coffee. "See? I'm always right."

There was a moment of silence. Then: "Hey, Ino? Can I ask you something?"

"You know," Ino said, because she was an awkward fucktard, "The phrase 'can I ask you something' triggers chemicals in the brain related to panic."

"Nice psych lesson. But seriously."

"Go ahead."

Gaara contemplated the table and said "…what, exactly, do you have against Sai?"

_Well._ Ino opened her mouth, a short, compulsory reply already formed, but different words were out before Ino could stop herself. "He's a sycophantic, manipulative fake _bastard_ who wouldn't know how to operate under social norms if it _bit him on the ass –_"

Gaara interrupted her, this time looking her dead in the eye. "Sounds like a serious vendetta."

"Yeah, something like that." Ino lowered her eyes and stared at her Styrofoam cup, wishing he'd just drop it.

No such luck. "What…happened between the two of you?"

Ino thought for a moment. She could always plead the 'I don't want to talk about it' card, but at this point the whole thing was just _embarrassing_ more than anything else. So much had happened since then – hell, it seemed _years_ away.

_He'll find out the details if he really wants them, _she figured, _and it's better he gets it from me, right?_

_Besides,_ she figured, _does it really matter anymore? _

She swallowed and fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. "Man, you really live under a rock, huh? It was like, all over school. Right around Halloween."

Gaara shrugged. "All I heard was you broke up with him and, according to Sai, 'were a total tease.'"

Swallowing the surge of indignation (because really, _she was not a tease!)_ she replied, "Yeah, that's the gist of it."

"But there's more to it, isn't there?"

"You catch on quick," she muttered.

"You're just easy to read," he said with an almost-shy shrug.

Not knowing how to respond to that, Ino answered his question. "We dated for like, nearly a year, right? And it was, uh, a pretty normal relationship. I got tight with his friends, he was already in with mine. And then…God, this is so embarrassing – I told him I loved him. Yeah, I know. Typical teenage girl fashion, typical mistake."

Gaara frowned. "Didn't pet you for _that_ type."

Ino backtracked, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself to him. "It wasn't like, date-two-weeks-and-insta-love. I, uh, thought I meant it. You know? We were going out for ten _months,_ and I really, really liked him. But then he got weird – and not the whole, 'ew-she-likes-me-more-than-I-like-her' kind of weird. The 'this-is-seriously-wigging-me-out' kind of weird."

He arched an eyebrow. "How?"

This was always the hardest part to explain, and Ino couldn't quell the flush that rose on her cheeks. "Like…controlling, I guess. Really pissy. Ridiculously clingy. Like, I'd hang out with Sakura and Tenten, and he'd sulk and get angry because I 'chose them over him.' Then he'd get all put out when I didn't tell him exactly what I was doing – like, when practice ended and I went out to eat and shit. Weird, you know? So I dumped him, and he decided to be…immature about it."

Gaara was giving her a contemplative look. "Well?" Ino demanded, feeling uncomfortable. "Say something."

"I think I've figured out why Matsuri…doesn't get along with you."

_Cause she's a total bitch?_ Ino bit the words back. _Do not insult his friends. _"Oh?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "She liked Sai a couple months back. I think she wanted to catch him on the rebound or something, but – and this is what she said – you 'fucked him up pretty good' and…well."

Ino resisted the urge to roll her eyes – but just barely. "He's seventeen years old. He'll get over it. And if he doesn't, well, that isn't my problem."

"Ouch."

"Heartbreak comes with the territory. Don't date if you can't hack it, right?"

Gaara looked away. "Point ta-" something to the left caught his eye, and Gaara positively _scowled. _"The _fuck_ does he want?"

The 'he' in questioned turned out to be an angry young man with unruly brown hair. He caught sight of Gaara and stormed over to the table. Their facial expressions were startlingly similar – in fact, scowling, they looked more alike. Ino knew he was Gaara's brother, but she couldn't remember his name.

Gaara's voice was laced with irritation and contempt when he spoke. "What do you _want?"_

Almost simultaneously, the man slammed his hands on the table, the fingerless gloves he wore not doing much to muffle the sound. "I fucking _told_ you not to touch my car!"

Gaara just looked at him flatly. "…and…?"

The man's eye twitched. "Give me the fucking _keys!_ I'm late for _class!_"

"You're causing a scene, you know."

"Gaara, so help me god if you don't stop being a little shit _right the fuck now_ I am going into your room and burning everything."

Gaara leaned back. "Go ahead," he said dispassionately.

Ino swallowed. She was no stranger to sibling arguments, but she wasn't comfortable observing on the sidelines.

The man narrowed his eyes, his face reddening. "_Fine,_" he spat. He pulled an orange Rx bottle out of his pocket. "Hope you like life without _these."_

The keys appeared on the table with a metallic _clang!_ The young man snatched them up, mumbled a quick, 'sorry' to Ino, and promptly left.

Ino cast a quizzical look at Gaara, who'd pocketed the pill bottle. "Don't look like that. It's Lunesta."

"Pardon?"

"Sleeping pills? You know. For insomnia." Gaara looked down, then looked back up. It was a strangely nervous gesture. "I think we should go. They are," and here he inclined his head at the three or so women behind the counter, "Giving us weird looks."

Ino led the way out the door, thinking to herself that _Gaara_ of all people should be used to weird looks. He got them everywhere he went, for chrissake. And…

"So you're saying," she began as they left, "That you'd rather have everything in your room destroyed rather than lose some sleep?"

"He wouldn't do it."

"Seemed pretty sincere to me."

Gaara shrugged. "He's all bravado – with the pyromania, anyway. Taking the pills is a threat he could actually carry out. And insomnia is a fat bitch in heels."

Ino laughed, and they lapsed into a friendly silence. The weekend's snow was slowly but surely turning into sludge, sloshing beneath their feet. Ino let her mind wander; swim would be starting up next week, and she had an AP History test this Friday. Dei was coming home for the weekend; she wondered if he'd bring Anko.

The touch of a hand against hers pulled Ino from her thoughts. She forced herself not to react; it was probably an accident. Shit like that happened all the time, right?

…and a second time…

…and a third….

Ino bit her lip, eyes trained on the sidewalk. Discreetly as she could, she put her hand in her pocket.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and steeled herself.

She felt bad for doing this, but the air needed to be cleared like, yesterday.

_Time to face the music. _

.

**I am not ending on a cliffhanger to be mean. In fact, the next chapter should be posted in like a week. **

**I'm taking a risk with the next chapter – a little differences in narration. Just to experiment, and such. **

**I think this is the part of the story where the author knows what they want to happen, but isn't sure how to make that happen. Maybe I have too much going on. I dunno. Because this chapter is SO FREAKING LONG. **

**Those of you who read the 'old' chapter 18 - can you, by any chance, tell me how this compares? **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	19. A Chapter Unlike The Rest: XIX

**Remember when I said that the next chapter would be up within the week? Ha...**

**Sorry, guys. There's some family shit going on, stuff that I will blatantly blame on my dad's alcoholism and subsequent refusal to go to AA. **

**BUT NEVER FEAR GUYS THE SHOW MUST GO ON AND THE STORY WILL FINISH.**

**All of you, thanks. For the reviews and feedback and favorites and waiting. I love you all. **

**.**

**Note: I know. I did it. I did the switch. I wanted to get inside Gaara's head. Don't hate me.**

**I hope this lives up to your expectations.**

**.**

Gaara lay in his bed, pretending to sleep for his own benefit. The illusion wasn't quite working, however: he lay rigid on his back, hands behind his head; his coat was off but his boots were still on.

He lay staring at his ceiling, alone save for the feeling that that he'd just deeply fucked up.

It wasn't a feeling that he often had. In fact, the way it hung heavy in his stomach, knotted tight and wreaking havoc on his nerves like some kind of emotional tornado – was downright unfamiliar.

The conversation he and Ino had had on the walk home to her house kept replaying in his head.

_"What are you doing?" _

Gaara didn't like being put on the spot, so he'd shoved his hand into his pocket and kept walking. He didn't want to discuss his motivations behind holding her hand, because _frankly_, they should've been _pretty freaking obvious._

Other people, it seemed, couldn't quite take hints; the girl had picked up the pace until she was walking next to him again and said, _"Gaara…about what happened the other day…"_

_"What about it?" _he'd said. His brain was too busy going _oh shit oh shit_ and desperately hoping that she was referring to his batshit friends to really be able to communicate.

Ino gave a visible swallow and began fiddling with her backpack strap. She did that a lot, when she was nervous. _"What was that all about?"_

He hadn't meant to snap, but that's how it came out. _"Isn't it obvious?"_

When she didn't respond, his tone became a touch nasty. _"I like you, Ino."_

Yeah. Eloquent.

_ "Oh."_

Even more eloquent.

The rejection came in one fell swoop: _"It's not that I don't like you. I do. It's just – I don't think I could deal with… a relationship, or anything, right now."_

Which, word for word, was what you told someone whom you felt guilty rejecting.

Gaara had never believed in the 'friendzoning' bullshit until right that second, and it stung his pride sharp and hard.

Instead of trying to salvage the situation, Gaara went and dug his grave deeper: _"Not over Sai?" _

_"No!"_ Her vehemence had startled him. _"Don't think that. It's just – everything else. Sakura and- and family issues and my grades are like, shit, and– maybe you haven't noticed this – but half my friends aren't speaking to me. " _

Okay. Maybe that was a little more genuine. But _still._

_"Get new friends."_

_"It's not that simple."_

They'd fallen into silence again. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze trained on the sidewalk in front of him. Gaara could sense Ino's discomfort, but frankly he _didn't care._

They were at the top of her driveway. When she spoke, he almost ignored her: _"Look. I'm not saying it'd never happen or anything, I'm just saying that right now it's not fair –_"

Pride, more than anything, had made him speak: _"Save the bull, will you?" _

For a split second, she actually looked hurt. Then she narrowed her eyes and tossed her pony tail over her shoulder. "_Fine. See you."_

Why hadn't he said anything?

_Why hadn't he said anything?! _

He could've done – well, _something –_ told her he was sorry, he didn't mean it, that he _liked_ her and he just didn't know how to go about liking someone entirely out of his league and social circle – but he hadn't, he'd watched her slam the door then turned to walk away.

It wasn't like he hadn't had a _perfect freaking_ opportunity that day back in the loft – he'd kissed her and she hadn't been skeeved out, she'd _kissed him back_ for chrissake –

And what does he do?

_He fucking asks her to coffee. _

Yeah, he felt like a mega-douche for _that_ one. Seriously, what kind of guy _did _that?

_LOL COMMUNICATION WHAT'S THAT?!_

Presently, it was almost 2AM. Gaara felt like he was about to throw up, he hadn't eaten any kind of food since lunch, he was absolutely wired on Mountain Dew, and there was a fist-sized dent in his wall.

All of this was related, all of this centered around one Ino Yamanaka.

In one swift motion, Gaara heaved himself off his bed. He made his way down the hall and downstairs, not bothering to be quiet; Temari and Kankuro were away at school, and his father…

Well, his father could suck a dick.

After wandering around the downstairs aimlessly one or five times, he retrieved his coat and walked out the front door.

A long, _long_ walk was in order.

.

.

.

Kenji Sabaku wasn't a very big man; he was of average height, but his thin frame made him look taller. Looking at him, it was obvious to see where Gaara got his looks: the strong jaw, the shape of his nose, his knuckly hands and skinny wrists. And, like his father, Gaara made up for his small frame in sheer presence.

As it were, his dad was just _better_ at making his presence known.

It was physically impossible for the man to appear _non_-confrontational, and Gaara was less than charitable in his thoughts at six AM.

The house was quiet in the mornings, even more so when his brother and sister were away.

His dad was loud, though; Gaara could hear him moving throughout the house over the sound of the coffee maker. He didn't turn around when he heard the man enter the kitchen, instead kept his back pointedly turned as he poured the coffee in a mug and added a shit-ton of sugar.

"Did you just walk in the door?" Gaara's dad said after the stiff, perfunctory morning greeting.

Gaara turned around and leaned against the counter. "Got the paper."

Well, that, and he'd been walking for the past two hours.

His dad _hmm_ed. "What were you doing out so late last night?"

"Couldn't sleep." _Duh._

"I told you not to go out on school nights."

This was_ not_ an argument Gaara felt like revisiting at o-dark-thirty, so he nodded and sipped his too-hot coffee.

"Aren't you not supposed to have caffeine?"

"This is decaf."

Like hell it was decaf. Gaara himself had conducted a month-long experiment involving a month-long caffeine abstinence. The only result had been a tired, cranky Gaara. No easier sleep.

"Hmph. Where's Temari?"

"School."

"And your brother?"

It was funny; Temari always got mentioned by name, but Kankuro was always _your brother._ Gaara chalked it up to Middle Child Syndrome.

Gaara shrugged in response. _School, dumbass._

His father frowned, took two steps forward and, grabbing a bottle from the shelf, fixed himself a mug of Irish coffee. "Take that shit off your face before you go out in public."

Gaara only nodded, glaring behind his mug.

_Like hell. _

.

.

First period Latin was hellish and inhumane, in Gaara's not-so-humble opinion. Why the actual _fuck_ would _anyone_ think that was a good idea? At least _Magister_ Baki, (like anyone actually called him that) the man that taught it, agreed –he'd allow the students to finish their test during their lunch period that day, if they hadn't completed it.

But that did not detract from the fact that it _fucking sucked._

It was an intimate class of only ten students, and as such Baki was one of the 'cool' teachers - insofar as he put up with Isaribi's chatter for a good five minutes before telling her to actually _go to class,_ and taking her rebuttal good-naturedly. It wasn't Isaribi's fault, she argued, that all her friends happened to take Latin; Gaara figured she was just lucky that teachers found her endearing.

Today, however, even Isaribi's inane babble couldn't ease the feeling in his gut. He _knew_ that he failed the test, hell, half the class probably did, and yeah, there would probably be makeup work, but _still._ He didn't want to have to worry about it – he wasn't one of those anal-retentive kids who mourned an A-minus. He wasn't, say, _Sakura._

He just wanted to pass, thanks.

None of his friends could relate – Haku was near-genius level, and Matsuri planned on going to art school – as long as she kept her GPA up, she didn't care. Isaribi was carefree as fuck-all, and Naruto – well. He couldn't complain to _Naruto_ of all people about grades, not without sounding like some kind of egotistical grade-hound faggot.

_Ugh._

He handed in his test just as the bell rang, making his way to his next class entirely on autopilot.

.

.

.

Normally, Gaara liked English. He was a relatively well-read person, one of those freaks that read _The Hobbit_ at age ten and attempted to stomach _The Lord of the Rings_ soon thereafter. He could write pretty decently, too, and was one of the few kids who actually _liked reading._ And recently, he'd had English with _Ino;_ that in and of itself proved to be interesting, if nothing else.

He didn't look at Ino at all during the period, doodling in the margins when Kurenai's lecture on _The Canterbury Tales_ paused. He could feel Ino sneaking glances at him, and he forced himself to keep still, to not look over.

He felt like a _dick._

When the bell rang, he left the room like a bat from hell. He didn't go to lunch, instead opting to hide out in the art room.

He stormed in and dumped his bag at his usual desk. Sasori glanced up from his desk in the corner and nodded at Gaara. "Lunch pass?"

Gaara flashed the yellow paper and, without waiting for a response, began setting up painting materials.

Acrylics were his favorite medium by far – they were much easier to wield than oils and allowed a much larger margin of error than watercolors. The paint dried fast and was easily mixed and diluted, and any major mistakes could be erased with gesso. The fuck-up paints, as he mentally referred to them.

He worked on autopilot, not bothering to sketch on the canvas before painting.

That girl.

That _damn girl._

It was just – she was just so goddamn _frustrating_, coming into his life and completely making him rethink everything he thought he _liked_ in a person, making him want to show her his art and open up and then totally – totally wreaking _havoc_.

He fucking _hated_ her.

_Yeah, right. _

Gaara was drawn from his thoughts by Sasori appearing at his side. "Gaara, could you help Sai? We need to frame the sophomores' watercolors for the art show – ten by fourteen."

_That_ was universal code for: you're totally sucking and wasting my supplies, go make yourself useful.

Gaara nodded, cleaning his brush and avoiding looking at the mess that was his canvas.

_I swear to god if I get a creative block because of this…_

Over in the corner of the room, Sai was piecing the plastic frames together. He nodded at Gaara in greeting, said, "Careful – I've cut myself twice." And that was the end of that.

Gaara had never really thought about Sai before. He was a good artist – not so much with paints, like Gaara, but with charcoal and sketching. His choice of clothing was a little weird – until he'd dated Ino last year, actually, Gaara had been under the impression that he was gay.

And honestly, who could blame him – Sai wore shirts that showed his midriff.

His _midriff_, okay?

But now that he knew some more – the whole shit with Ino – Gaara couldn't help but wonder. How had a guy like Sai ended up with a girl like her? Or, maybe more accurately: what was a girl like Ino doing with a guy like Sai?

_With a guy like _you,_ for that matter? _

_Maybe it _is_ just her type._

Gaara worked autonomously, only jerked out of his thoughts when he cut himself – something he managed to do no less than five times.

_Great._

By the end of the period Gaara's hands were covered in cuts and he'd managed to think himself into a corner. His situation was absolutely no better off than it had been, and to top it all off he was hungry as_ fuck. _

Sometimes he really, really, _really_ hated his life.

And _now,_ lucky him, he had trig/pre-calc with Kabuto.

_Fuck me._

.

.

.

Back at the loft, Gaara stared at the painting. It wasn't even close to being finished, but he could tell what direction it was going in. One of his favorite things to do with painting was to play around with color and contrast, and this was no exception: deep purples and blues complimented the yellow of her hair and highlights from the window nicely. He hadn't decided yet if he'd make an abstract background yet, but he'd keep the stool.

Even if she wasn't his type, Ino was pretty - beautiful, even. Not Isaribi's brand of cute or Matsuri's 'average-with-the-Goth-thing-working-for-her,' but a league all her own - whether looking at her as a teenage boy or an artist.

As he looked at the painting, Gaara felt a twinge in his gut. He'd have to cut the pussy act and fix things, soon. He _liked _Ino, and he was missing her.

_If she likes me, she likes me. And if she doesn't, she doesn't. _At this point, it was out of his control.

And maybe he was being a tad unfair: Ino _was_ going through a lot right now, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't _want_ to deal with her baggage. Sure, he didn't mind here and there, but - and he'd learned this the hard way - you couldn't date if you weren't emotionally stable. It ended badly for both parties involved, and anyone who argued otherwise was a fucktard and a half.

He groaned. _Next week,_ he promised himself. He'd talk to her Monday before school and try to sort everything out, explain that he was sorry, that he wanted her in his life dating or not, tell her that it was okay, that he wouldn't push anything.

In the meantime, though, he'd get his ass in gear with this damned painting.

.

_._

"Been missing you at lunch."

Gaara internally groaned. He wasn't in the mood for small talk with Isaribi, not _now._

Classes had just ended, and the hallways were crammed with students, chatting and going to their lockers. Gaara had managed to beat the rush and was all packed, bag zipped and locker _just_ shut.

He shrugged and shouldered his bag. "Art stuff."

Isaribi _mhmed._ "Funny. Ino's been skipping out on us, too."

His mouth twitched. He'd managed to survive the rest of the week without having to interact with Ino too much; in all actuality, he knew that the longer he waited, the more fucked-up the situation became, but…well.

He wasn't really sure how to go about 'fixing' it, especially since his fuck up was dubious, at best. "Did you now?"

Isaribi set her bag down and leaned against the row of lockers, crossed her arms. "What's going on between you two?"

_Might as well go with the truth. _"Absolutely nothing."

"Funny, I don't buy it."

He sighed. "Where are you going with this?"

"Should I be pissed at Ino?"

"…What?"

Isaribi bit her lip. "…Well, it's just…you know. You two…"

Gaara narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing going on, Isaribi. _Nothing._"

It must've been something on his face, but Isaribi backed down. "Okay. Okay. Nothing going on, gotchya." She paused for a moment, then said, "You wanna come see a movie tonight? Haku and Matsuri are coming."

He hesitated. Really, Gaara just wanted to _sleep,_ but he wasn't stupid – going out would probably be best for him, right now.

_Maybe…_

"Actually, that wasn't a question. You've been acting weird all week and it's Friday night. You're coming out, okay?"

Gaara sighed. If he wanted to fight her, he probably could; as it were, he lacked the energy. "Fine."

Isaribi smiled. "Good. Meet us at the mall at seven."

.

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**kinda filler, but I know where I want to go with this. **

**Thoughts? **


	20. XX

**Preamble: bigbigBIG thank you to all the lovely reviewers/readers who've suck with this so far. **

**Disclaimer: disclaimed. **

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**.**

"It's like everyone and their mother is here," Ino grumbled, sliding into the seat across from Sasuke. "Seriously."

"Spring sales," Sasuke said around a mouthful of pizza. "Draw 'em like flies."

"It's not even spring yet."

He swallowed, shrugged. "It's March. Close enough."

"I guess," Ino said, and took the first sip of her third coffee that day.

The mall food court was absolutely _packed,_ and not just with the usual array of preteen mallrats. Ino had already spied three people from her class, which was three people too many. Really, she had to wonder _why_ Sasuke had practically kidnapped her that Friday after school, but she supposed she shouldn't complain: it was a nice distraction, especially since TenTen had blown her off for Neji _again._

Sasuke nodded, swallowed. "Only reason I'm here. Suits aren't cheap, and I've outgrown my other one."

_Suits? Why does he need a suit? _ Ino looked up at him. "You have a wedding to go to or something?"

Sasuke gave her an odd look. "Ino…have you even _thought_ about prom?"

It was probably one of the biggest "Oh, sh_it_" of her life. In the hype of…_everything,_ Ino'd completely forgotten about the junior prom.

"Fuuuuuuck," she groaned. Sasuke chuckled. Ino scowled. "Not funny. When is it? Holy shit. _When is it?_ I need a dress, and you _always_ have to get that shit tailored…_fuck!"_

Sasuke grinned. "You of all people, forgetting _prom_. Will the wonders never cease?"

Under the table, Ino kicked him. "Ass. _You're_ the one who wanted me to go suit-shopping with you. Homo, much?" Ino snorted and took another sip of coffee.

Sasuke winked. "Hey, gotta look good for the mancandy."

The coffee that had been in her mouth wound up all over the table. Ino was half-laughing, half-choking.

_Holy shit. Sasuke has a funny side. _

"You -" she managed, breathless, "I – did that – my _coffee –_"

"You're so coherent when you're flustered," Sasuke told her, already sopping up Ino's coffee-spit with napkins. Taking a dry napkin, he swept the mess of wet napkins up and tossed them in the trash can. "Now c'mon. You probably wanna check out dresses too, right?"

Well, now that he mentioned it…

"I probably should," she agreed, "Since prom is in a month. Oh _god. _A _month._"

A corner of his mouth tugged up. "We'll get it together, Ino; don't worry."

.

.

.

"You think I could get away with white?" Sasuke asked, stepping out of the dressing room and looking down at himself. This was the third suit he'd tried on and, in Ino's opinion, better than the pinstripe but not _quite_ as flattering as the black one.

"Better than the pinstripe," she told him, looking him up and down. "Turn around."

He did a 360, arms spread. "Well?"

"I like it," Ino told him. "But it sort of depends on what your date's wearing. Does she know yet?"

Sasuke shrugged. "I don't know who I'm taking yet. Figured I'd just match my tie, or something."

"Of course you don't," Ino muttered. "But yeah – I like the white. The black one looks better, in my opinion, but do whatever."

Sasuke looked in the mirror. "I dunno. Makes me look all pasty."

"Well, you _are_ pasty."

"And you're not?"

Ino halfhearted smacked him on the shoulder. "Ass. No wonder you don't have a date."

"You wound me." He made a face at his reflection. "The black one. Definitely the black one."

"In that case," Ino said, "Black shirt, white tie. Can't go wrong with that."

Sasuke nodded, _mhmed_ to himself, and ducked back into the dressing room to change.

Ino sat on the bench just outside and sighed, shutting her eyes. _Prom…ugh._ Typically, she'd be excited, but at that point it was just another can of worms she had to deal with.

Dress shopping was easy enough, sort of – what Ino was really worried about was the date and group situation. Sure, she had friends outside of Sakura and Gaara, but…well, it wouldn't be the same, for one, but sentimentalities aside, there was the matter of "everyone else probably has all their shit together except me, whoops!"

_Ughhh. _

Sasuke drew her out of her thoughts. "You all right?"

Ino looked up and grimaced, standing. "Prom. Blech."

His mouth twitched. "Right? I'm sort of kicking myself for letting it get to the last minute."

"Agreed. Hell, I didn't even know – I totally _forgot._ Thanks for reminding me, by the way."

Sasuke sort of half-smiled, at that. "No problem."

They stood in comfortable silence throughout the transaction. As they made their way out of the department store and into the mall, Sasuke said, "Hey, Ino…"

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking – you don't have a date to prom, do you?"

Ino inwardly winced. "Not exactly."

Sasuke brushed his bangs from his eyes. "Well, neither do I. If by the time prom rolls around and we're both still dateless, wanna just go together?"

_Well,_ Ino thought. _That works out nicely._

There had been a time where she _fantasized _about going to prom with Sasuke – and, though she was waaayyy out of that phase, Ino had to admit: date-wise, she could do much worse.

"Not a very creative way of asking," she remarked, grinning. "But –"

"Hey, I'm in a _bit_ of a time-crunch, here, missy."

" – I accept. I like my flowers – "

"You own a _flower shop, _for Chrissake, you can get your _own_ damned flowers –" Sasuke countered good-naturedly.

Ino halfheartedly smacked him on the arm. "Ass. No _wonder_ you're short a prom date."

"Hey, be nice to me, I'm the one who _told_ you about prom. _And_ I'm letting you drag me dress-shopping."

"Yeah, you're right. But I'm not sure how good you'd look in a dress, Sasuke, I mean your chest hasn't really developed yet."

"Alright, that's it." Sasuke took her by the shoulders, one hand over her mouth, and steered her into the nearest dress shop. "_Enough_ out of you."

But Ino was laughing, despite being man-handled, and she knew that Sasuke was cracking a small grin. It was _fun;_ Ino shoved away thoughts of "_why Sasuke? Why now?"_ and just went with it. She'd deal with Gaara in school on Monday, maybe Saturday or Sunday if she was feeling courageous – but _later._

Right now, she had wisecracks to make and prom dresses to try on.

.

.

.

It was 6:55, the movie began in ten minutes, and three-fifths of their posse hadn't had the social graces to _show the fuck up yet._

"Any day now," Isaribi mumbled as she sat back on the bench outside the movie theater and _huffed, _blowing her newly-dyed pink hair out of her face. Beside her, Gaara didn't change position, just stared directly in front of him. Isaribi wasn't sure if he was people-watching or zoning, but she let him be; she wasn't sure _what,_ exactly, but _something_ had definitely happened – probably something involving Ino. His eyes had that sort of sad angle to them, and his silence wasn't just being quiet – it was borderline _melancholy_.

The whole thing made Isaribi a little sad, but also a little annoyed: for one, Gaara was acting all emo and that was no fun at _all_ to deal with, and for two, well, it just sucked. Gaara really liked Ino, she knew, and Isaribi was almost positive that Ino iked Gaara back.

Really, they were just screwed over by shitty timing – Gaara didn't talk about it, but she knew that his dad was getting bad again, and that whole thing with Ino's mom…

People these days liked to over-angst-ify everything: they took romantic relationships too seriously, and friendships too lightly, and took every excuse they could to sit in a corner and complain. Gaara wasn't like that, and neither was Ino, and really, they'd be cute together, and Isaribi was cursing the powers that be because hell, she _liked_ Ino – Ino was witty and fun, if not a bit boisterous and bossy, but that, she figured, was okay because she'd be good for Gaara –

_Grrr._

Really, she could go on forever and ever about it, but she wasn't going to.

_Eugh. It's times like these I envy those with a quiet mind…_

The buzz of her phone pulled her out of her thoughts.

It was a text from Haku: _Can't come, car broke down. Matsuri and Kiba with me. _

Isaribi winced, texting back asking if they were okay, and poked Gaara in the side.

"As it were," she said, "The remaining _tres compadres _have broken down. Just you and me- so, let's go."

Gaara made no argument, following her into the theater.

.

.

.

Two hours and ten dresses later, Ino was no closer to getting herself a dress. It had been fun, though, and you had to start _somewhere._ The purple one she'd tried on was nice, maybe she'd come back to it – it'd look good with silver shoes…

She and Sasuke were in the bookstore café. The mall itself had closed at nine, but the major department stores – bookstore and theater included – were open later.

Presently, Ino was picking at the remains of a cookie and contemplating buying a book when Sasuke cursed under his breath. She looked up and followed his line of sight.

_Shit._

It wasn't the fact that Sakura and Naruto had just walked in that made her gut clench.

It was the fact that Gaara and Isaribi walked in behind them that.

Ino looked from them to Sasuke and back again, and knew, instantly_ knew,_ that the night wasn't going to end well.

"Um," she said to him, quietly, "Maybe we should go."

Sasuke was scowling down into his half-eaten muffin. "Not right away."

Ino _mhmmed._ "She keeps glancing at you. Me. Us. Whatever."

His scowl darkened. "Of course," he muttered.

Ino tapped her nails on the table. Really, their best bet was to make a natural exit. Maybe…

Sasuke's hand came up over hers. "Still looking?" he asked, voice lowered.

Ino bit her lip and, subtly as she could, looked over his shoulder to where Sakura and Naruto were sitting. "Yeah –oh. Just looked away."

_Yeah, that's right. Avoid eye contact. Bitch._

Except no, Sakura was now _walking over to them_.

And she looked pissed.

It was times like these that Ino wondered why the universe seemed to hate her.

.

.

.

The night, all things considered, hadn't been too bad – he'd seen a not-shitty movie with Isaribi and was about to get some food before they headed home…

Except Ino was there.

Correction: she was there with _Sasuke Uchiha. _

_Of all goddamn people._

It didn't mean it was a date; it didn't necessarily mean _anything._

But god, was it shitty.

He was overreacting, he knew, so he tried to distract himself. Isaribi, if she noticed anything, didn't comment, instead opting for her usually chatter. It was a nice distraction, and Gaara did what he could, but he couldn't help it. His eyes kept moving to their table.

Sasuke's back was to him, and Ino was partially out of sight. The boy looked tense, his shoulders rigid through his shirt. Ino was tapping her nails on the table and okay, he was staring, he really shouldn't be staring, really, it was none of his business –

And their conversation – their little confrontation with Sakura – it was really loud. He couldn't help if he overheard, right?

Right.

"Seriously," Ino was saying, "You need to _calm down, _Sakura, I don't know what's up your ass, but –"

"_Sorry,_" Sakura simpered, not sounding sorry at all, "But I'd though you were above dating _him!"_

Dating? What? _Pardon?_

"Who said that –" Ino was cut off by Sasuke.

"So what if we are, hmm?" he was the only one who'd remained calm; Gaara had to really _listen_ to hear his voice. Nonchalantly, he slid an arm around Ino's shoulders. "None of your business, Sakura. You've made that clear."

And then – simultaneously solidifying his position as World's Biggest Douchebag _and_ making Gaara want to punch him – Sasuke leaned over and kissed Ino full on the mouth.

Something in his expression must've changed, because Isaribi cut herself off midsentence, frowned, and turned around. "…Oh," she said, quietly. Then, with a delicacy that belied the situation, "Oh, dear."

The two of them watched as Sakura turned on her heel, red faced; Ino pulled away, murmured something to Sasuke, and then they left.

Gaara was left simmering in his own anger.

For once, Isaribi was speechless.

.

.

.

Wednesday-Thursday-most-of-Friday (dear _god,_ she wasn't going to even _think _about Friday) was hell, the weekend hadn't been much better, and Monday morning was the absolute _worst:_ pouring, freezing March rain, a nearly-missed bus, a pop quiz first period, and piles upon piles of homework assigned _and it wasn't even lunch yet._

She should be mad, Ino realized; she should be exasperated, angry, or at _least_ filled with that "I am _so_ done" feeling.

But she wasn't. Ino felt like she was experiencing her life several times removed – she felt more like she was playing a video game than actually _living._ In the back of her mind she was groaning because _ugh,_ she didn't want to have to _do_ this anymore, but it was a dim sensation, like she _should_ be feeling that way…except she wasn't.

The proverbial drawer of shits to give had officially been emptied.

She spent her lunch in the library, pretending to do homework but really just staring at her textbook and ignoring her sandwich. Dimly, she realized that should at least _try_ and talk to Gaara, but he'd ignored her text – _and_ call. Ino didn't want to seem like a nag, like a clingy, psycho-chick, so she left it at that.

She'd tried to contact him, but she wasn't about to go full-blower-stalker.

It was his move.

That was how Isaribi found her when she pulled up a chair across from Ino. "You. Talk," she said without preamble.

Ino looked up. Isaribi was _pink_ today, shockingly so: pink hair and ribbon and leggings contrasting sharply with her black bondage skirt and corset-type-shirt…thing.

"About?"

Isaribi gave her a look. "You and Gaara."

Ino swallowed. _So_ not what she felt like dealing with right now. "Isaribi…"

But the girl was waving her off. "He really likes you, you know. If you don't like him, I get it, but you should be more up front about it. We saw you and Sasuke, at the mall, and well, he's pissed."

Ino stared at Isaribi for a minute in disbelief.

Then she began to get just a _little_ annoyed.

"_Listen,_" Ino said, narrowing her eyes. "What happened with Sasuke – firstly, that's none of your business, second, maybe he was using me to piss Sakura off? Did you think about that? And say I _did_ like Sasuke – so fucking what? Again: not your business.

"Not to _mention,"_ she continued, "That Gaara and I have already had this discussion: I told him what I told him, and maybe if he'd answer his goddamn phone and stop avoiding me, we could get somewhere. Maybe I _do_ like Gaara, but maybe he's so _freaking_ hard to read and absolute _shit_ at communication that I'm not sure where the fucking _hell_ we stand." Her voice had risen to an almost-shout toward the end. She checked to make sure she hadn't attracted any attention; good, she hadn't.

Isaribi looked leveled, sort of wide-eyed and shocked. "O-kaay," she said, recovering, "But – wait. You tried to call him?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "No shit I tried to call him. Look, it's been a rough semester, okay? I –" she took a breath, trying to calm herself down. "I'm not in a good place right now. I like him, okay? I do. Thursday we sort of…I dunno, I told him it was a bad time and he got all pissy. I get that, I do, but really? _Really?"_

Isaribi grimaced. She hadn't known about Thursday. "Okay, so _that…_changes things. I think what really pissed him off was the thing with Sasuke, though…not necessarily whatever you said."

Ino groaned. "But that was nothing. _Nothing._ We were just hanging out and he wanted to piss Sakura off. We're not actually dating. It was just a freaking kiss, okay? I'm not…no. Ugh. _Why."_

Ino let out a sigh. "Look. If Gaara wants to talk to me, he can talk to me. The ball's in his court now. I've got too much on my plate to worry about…whatever's going on inside his head. I'm done second-guessing and worrying about _people._"

That, she realized, was one of the reasons she'd initially liked Gaara in the beginning: he accepted things at face value and didn't press for questions, didn't make her guess and double-guess what was going on –

_That is, until emotions got involved in the mix._

Isaribi bit her lip. "Oh. I hadn't realized…sorry. I just…I get protective of him. He's had it rough in a lot of aspects…I just don't want him getting any more hurt than he has, you know?"

"Yeah," Ino said wearily. "I know."

They exchanged small talk for a while, just bullshitting on the stupidity of feelings and boys and people in general. When the bell rang, Isaribi told her that she'd talk to Gaara, that she was sorry, and that she'd see Ino later.

Ino bade her farewell, trying to push it all from her mind but wondering what Isaribi had meant by Gaara getting hurt.

.

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.

**Yeah, I POV hopped. **

**Oops? **

**As always, let me know your thoughts. **


	21. XXI

**You guys are probably my favorite readers, seriously. You rock! Thanks :) **

The rest of Monday passed without incident; Tuesday began much the same, but by the time sixth period rolled around…

Well.

As walked she from her locker to the lunchroom, Ino was on one side of the hallway.

As fate would have it, Sakura was on the other.

The hall was mostly deserted, everyone who wasn't headed to lunch already in their classes. Ino swallowed, wondering what she should do – yes, she was still pissed, yes, Sakura was a mega-bitch from hell, and _fuck_ no, she wasn't about to apologize, but…

Deep down, she really, really missed her best friend.

Not that she was going to admit it, but…

"My mom made cookies," Sakura said, a bit stiffly. "If you're sitting with us."

Ino swallowed, glanced at Sakura out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, so I'm _allowed_ to sit with you again?"

She hadn't meant for it to come out bitchy. Really, she hadn't.

Sakura stopped. "Look, Ino, I'm trying to –"

"I know," Ino said hurriedly. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm sorry."

"Me too," Sakura said, and offered a shy smile.

They fell into step as they walked down the corridor and into the lunchroom. "So…how's it been?" Ino asked, looking around for Gaara. He wasn't at his usual table, and she didn't spy in him the lunch line.

"Oh, you know," Sakura said, waving a hand. "Tenten and Neji got together, Naruto and I broke up…"

"Oh," Ino said, suddenly seeing where the whole thing was going. _So you need me around now that your boyfriend dumped your sorry ass? _Sakura had never _ditched_ her for Naruto, no more than Ino had ever ditched Sakura for a guy…

But still. The peace offering was a little convenient, wasn't it?

_Not to mention that after the whole Sasuke thing…something has to be up. She hasn't even _mentioned_ it._ And Sakura, if anything, was confrontational.

She didn't take the bait, instead capitalizing on the first part of Sakura's statement (because, _hey,_ she was a little bitter about that.) "Seriously? Like, they're _finally_ together? _Finally._ You know, now that Neji's a senior and will be going halfway across the country for college next year."

The quasi-passive-aggression left a sour taste in Ino's mouth, but she didn't add anything, waited for Sakura to respond.

Sakura _mhmed,_ sliding into her seat. Ino sat at her usual place, next to Tenten and across from Sakura. "_So,_" Ino said, sidling up to Tenten with a grin. "_Some_one's been awfully busy, yeah?"

Tenten wrinkled her nose. "You sounded like your brother right there."

"I am appalled that you would change the subject by comparing me to him."

"Did it work?"

Ino poked her on the forehead. "Absolutely not. _Talk._"

.

.

.

The problem with being an extrovert, Ino mused while at her locker, was that you _needed_ to be around people. Not like, all the time, and not just _anybody_, but if you went for prolonged periods of being alone - without interaction with at least close acquaintances - you'd get depressed.

The problem with _that_ was that she didn't even realize she was in a funk until she talked to people – like, really talked and interacted with people – and it brought her _out_ of the funk.

Right now she felt on top of the world (sort of) after having spoken with her friends again at lunch and thinking that hey, she _did_ have a possible prom date – a _hot_ prom date, at that – and, well…

The world seemed a bit manageable again.

She felt like she could totally handle the whole Gaara thing.

Hell, she was planning on actually _talking _to him.

Lockers were assigned by homeroom – which meant his would be somewhere near Matsuri's.

_On the third floor. Ugh._

Of course, she _could_ just wait outside and hope she saw him, but Ino didn't want to leave it up to chance like that. She knew what she told Isaribi – that the ball was in Gaara's court and all, but…

_Eh, fuck it._

This way, at least, she could talk to him…and if he ignored her, he ignored her. She'd just have to deal with it.

He _was_ at his locker, kneeling down and transferring his books. His black army-esque coat was on the floor next to his bag. As Ino drew nearer, she could see that he had paint on his hands and at the bottom of his sleeves. She found herself smiling at that – it was little things like that that she found strangely endearing.

It was then Ino realized that she didn't even know what she was going to say. She began to feel nervous, felt her stomach twist into knots and felt her heart racing. _Uhm…._ "Hey," she settled on. She stood a foot or so behind him and off to the left, close enough that he had to know she was talking to him but far enough to not be in his personal space.

He lifted his head quick when he heard her and he looked surprised when he saw her – Ino couldn't tell if that was a good thing. "Um," he said, shoulders tensing. "Hey."

A silence hung in the air around them, their atmosphere different from all the after-school hustle and bustle in the hallway around them.

It was mega-awkward.

Ino cleared her throat. _Oookay. _She should've expected this. She skipped the foreplay and went for the kill. "Gaara? About the other day…"

"What about it?" he said gruffly, still not looking at her.

Ino exhaled, rocked on the balls of her feet. _Drop all pretenses. That's what got you here in the first place. _"I think we need to talk."

"So talk."

Ino swallowed a retort and stalled for time by brushing her bangs out of her face. "I'm not really sure what to say."

"Guess we're not talking, then."

At any other time, Ino would've made a comment about Gaara being sassy. Now, though, she was just frustrated. "You're avoiding me."

"Really."

"Yes, _really_." Ino spat his sarcasm right back at him. "What gives?"

"You said you needed space."

"…you're kidding me, right?"

He shrugged, still kneeling, still staring into his locker. Ino inwardly marveled how quickly he was chased off. "You don't need to make assumptions –"

"Yeah," he snapped, "Well you don't need to play _mind games._"

Ino gaped at him, slightly appalled. "I don't play _mind games!"_

When he finally looked at her, it was to give her a leveling, _are you kidding me_ stare. "Oh yes you do. And Uchiha? What the _fuck_ is going on with that? I thought…" he trailed off, eyes going from her to her shoes and back to his locker. The tips of his ears were red - he had to be at least a _little_ embarrassed. At least a _little_ into her, right?

"You thought what?" Ino prompted, forcing her tone to be gentle.

"Never mind." The response was quick, his voice low. "It's nothing."

Except for the fact that he said it in a way which meant that it was totally something.

There was a pregnant pause; most of the people in the hallway had already cleared out, gone home, went down to catch the bus. Ino was suddenly grateful for the relative privacy.

"Gaara?" When he didn't respond, she sighed. _I'm not gonna get anywhere with him, am I?_ "There's…nothing. Nothing's going on between me and Sasuke." His shoulders tensed; before he could call bullshit, Ino clarified, "We wanted to piss off Sakura. That's all."

Ino could see his Adam's apple move when he swallowed, but he still didn't say anything, just knelt there in front of his locker.

As the silence dragged out, a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "Fine," she said coolly. "Whatever. I'll see you."

She didn't know what she'd been hoping for, but she felt overwhelmingly disappointed.

_Maybe he just needs to come around on his own terms. Maybe I just wounded his pride. _

_Maybe I..._

_Maybe I..._

_Maybe I fucked it up beyond repair._

Ino wanted to kick herself – really, _really_ how could she fuck that up? It was – they were – they'd been _great_.

She swallowed thickly as she made her way down the hallway. _Don't cry. Don't you dare cry over him._

If this were a movie Gaara would've headed her off her grabbed her wrist by now, explaining _I'm sorry I just got jealous_ or _Ino, I really like you,_ or something equally stupid or cliché, and then he'd kiss her and for a moment there, it would be perfect.

But her life wasn't a movie and he didn't so much as call after her. When she turned to look back when she was at the top of the stairwell – much as she promised herself _she wouldn't look back_ – he was gone.

And, Ino realized as she was halfway down the stairs, she'd missed her bus.

_Fuck. _

_._

_._

_._

**It's a bit shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this out for you all! I know I've been slow with updating recently, so this is a bit of an apology - hopefully I'll have the next chapter out by the end of the month, yeah? **

**Anyways. **

**Thoughts?**


	22. XXII

**Hey! So, I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but Annalizzz has begun translating this fic into Spanish! The first five chapters are up, link in my profile. :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

Well, at least the weather was nice.

Sort of.

It was a damp March day, the sun just beginning to peak out from behind the clouds. It was _just_ this side of chilly, but it wasn't unbearable. Maybe Ino would get coffee on her way home, or hot chocolate – yes, today was _definitely_ a hot-chocolate sort of day. It would be the _perfect I-screwed-it-up-with-an-amazing-guy-and-missed-my- bus-to-boot _pick me up.

Ino left her backpack in her locker – _screw that, I'm not gonna do my homework anyway and I'm _not_ walking home with that thing on my back –_ and began the trek home.

She had just left the school grounds when a raspy, "Get in," sounded from her right.

Ino turned. Gaara sat in his car, giving her a look that she was too drained to decipher.

Her mouth moved before she had time to think. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Gaara continued to give her that look. "You missed the bus because of me, right?"

"Well, yeah."

He gestured to the passenger seat. "Then get in. I'll…give you a ride home."

"It's fine," Ino said a bit stiffly. "I was going to get coffee, anyway."

That did nothing to dissuade him. "Well then let's get coffee."

_Way to not get the hint._ Ino gave him a pointed look. "I sort of want to be alone right now."

He had the grace to look guilty. He looked away from her, into the rearview mirror. "Ino…? I'm holding up the turning lane. Can we talk? …please?"

Ino narrowed her eyes. She had the sense to just keep walking, and part of her really, _really_ wanted to do that – but that would get her nowhere, would it?

_At least this way you can chew him out while you're still angry,_ she figured, and with that she yanked open the passenger door (with only _slightly_ more force than was strictly necessary) and slid in.

"So _now_ you want to talk," she muttered, buckling her seatbelt, looking out the window, at the dashboard, at his hands, anywhere but at _him._

Gaara had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "You caught me off guard. I know I acted like an asshole –"

"Yeah, just a bit." Ino knew she sounded like a sarcastic little bitch but really, she didn't care. He was the one who had explaining to do – not her.

He made a noise. They pulled up to a red light and he ran his hand through the red spikes of his hair. When he spoke his voice was thick. "Look, I didn't mean – the other day –what I said. I – I'm not good with words, okay? And I'm running on like, five hours of sleep in two days. I'm tired and pissed and I like you but I don't want to _do_ this anymore."

Ino swallowed. _Well. That... _"Do what anymore?" she asked quietly, studying his profile. He _did_ look tired, and – this might've just been her imagination – thinner, too, in the cheekbones and the wrists.

He made a vague gesture with one hand. "This. I like you, and I'm almost positive you like me at least a little bit, and yeah I get it, you've got shit goin' on – _fucking Christ, asshole, use your fucking turn signals! –_ but after that shit with Uchiha…fuck, I don't even know where I was going with that. Shit."

Ino blinked. That might've been the most she'd heard from him at once – and probably the angriest she'd seen him. "You ramble when you're tired," she observed, and because _that_ didn't really qualify as even a half decent response, she added, "I _do_ like you. A lot. I just – I don't even know why I did what I did. Like…" she glanced at him. Part of her was still a little indignant, but most of her wanted to be done with ignoring the elephant in the room. She wanted things to be okay again – natural and easy like they used to be.

She couldn't tell if her words did anything to calm him. Ino cleared her throat. "I didn't mean to play mind games. You're just…you're hard to read, sometimes."

"_I'm_ hard to read?" he asked, incredulous. "Have you met yourself?"

Ino rolled her eyes. _Hello, pot. My name's kettle. You're black. _"Y_es._ You are."

"I didn't want to make it awkward," he muttered after a silence, almost guiltily. He snorted, cynicism dripping into his tone. "Look how well that turned out." He exhaled sharply through his nose, "I just – I thought it'd be easier if the ball was in your court."

"Funny," Ino remarked as he pulled into the parking lot of the café. "I thought the same thing."

He cut the engine and turned to look at her, incredulous. "You're joking."

Ino shook her head, half-smiled, half-smirked a little. "Nope. And hey – _you're_ the guy, aren't _you_ supposed to make the move?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're taking a refuge in sexism."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say my sarcasm was lost on you."

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. It looked good on him, the smile – made him look, dare she say, _handsome._

It was then that she realized that they were sort of staring at each other, grinning like idiots, maybe, just _maybe,_ having a moment.

"C'mon," he said eventually. "You wanted coffee, right? And we...we can go back to the loft. To talk?"

It came out more like a question; Ino nodded her assent and got out of the car.

Fifteen minutes and one hot chocolate later, Ino was perched on the arm of the couch in the loft. Gaara was kneeling at the mini fridge, water bottle in hand. "Want one?"

Ino shook her head. "No thanks, I'm good."

Gaara shut the fridge and unscrewed the cap, drinking half the bottle before he reached the couch. He sat maybe just a _little_ too close to Ino – but that was the point, wasn't it?

"The bitch about sleeping pills," he said, "Is that they cause dry mouth."

A weird conversation starter, but, Ino supposed, they had to start somewhere, right?

"Yeah, my mom was on those sometimes. Always drinking water left and right."

Oh. Oh _god._ That was _so_ not the right thing to say – partly because thinking of her mom still stung, and it stung _hard, (God, Ino missed her)_ and partly because _um, hello? Awkward._

Gaara was giving her a measured look – not uneasy, and not judgmental, just observant. "Yeah," he agreed, slowly. Seeing that Ino wasn't about to burst into tears, he added, "I've been on some form of them since I was like, six. You'd think by now I'd have no side effects, right?"

Casual conversation. Weird topic, but Ino could _so_ do casual conversation. "Have you ever tried going off them?"

He shrugged. "I was fine until I hit puberty. Then it's like, one pill will work for a month or two, then I build up a tolerance, so they up my dosage, but then I'm a total zombie, so I go onto other meds." He took a sip of water. "Lather, rinse, repeat."

Ino _mhmed_, his words coming back to her: _Five hours of sleep in two days._ "So are you like, in the "tolerance" stage now?" She poked his cheek. "You look really tired. Like, _really_ tired."

Gaara poked her right back. "Something like that, yeah." When she went to retaliate, he grabbed her hand and traced patterns on the palm. It felt good – really good – and sent shivers down her spine.

Ino swallowed, eyes flickering from her hand to him to her hand again. "So then, what do you do? When you can't sleep….that must really, really suck."

Gaara shrugged, still staring at her hand. "You get used to it. Sometimes the side effects of the meds are worse than the insomnia. God, I have no idea where I was going with that. Now I'm rambling. Fuck. Sorry."

Ino couldn't help it; she chuckled. "Talking is _good,_ Gaara. Maybe you should ramble a bit more often, hm?"

Gaara rolled his eyes. "Smartass."

"Well," Ino said, "We wouldn't be in this predicament if you did…"

At Gaara's sudden worried expression, Ino backtracked. "I was half joking. Sorry. Didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," he muttered, ears turning red. "You – well, you were half serious. And you're right. Sort of."

Ino grinned and flicked him on the nose. "Whoa, back up. What you just said – about me being right – can I get that in writing?"

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

.

.

.

Twenty minutes later Gaara's head was in her lap and she was playing with his hair. It was smooth – he hadn't gelled it into spikes in a while – and the color was consistent to the roots.

"Hm," Ino said, "So you really _don't_ dye it."

His eyes flickered up to her. "We've been over this, Blondie."

She tapped him on the forehead. "One can never be too sure," she said lightly.

He muttered something that sounded like "_of course"_ but Ino wasn't positive.

Eventually he relaxed and shut his eyes, let out a contented sigh. Ino smiled to herself and traced a finger over his cheekbones, felt the sandpapery stubble, and wondered if she should kiss him. Ultimately she decided that the angle would be a bit awkward – but she _would_ kiss him, one way or another, before today was over. That she promised herself.

She looked down. Gaara's eyes were open now, and he was staring at her. "What?"

His hand came up, touched the corner of her mouth and stayed there. "You're smiling."

Ino arched an eyebrow. "And…?"

"It looks good on you."

Ino felt her face go red. He said it so casually, so easily, Ino had to bite her lip to keep from grinning like a lovestruck idiot.

Gaara shifted, sat up so he was half on her lap. Before Ino could (playfully) shove him off – her leg was beginning to go numb – he leaned over and kissed her, lightly on the mouth. Ino blinked, surprised but unable to keep from smiling. She tilted her head and kissed him as he pulled away, just barely catching his lower lip.

Apparently, that was all the encouragement he needed.

Two seconds later he muscled her into his lap and was kissing her, _really_ kissing her, pressing her into the back cushion of the couch. One arm was around her back, hand at the dip in her waist, the other came up and cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss. He tasted like nothing in particular, smelled like sandalwood, and was warm beneath her hands when she put them around his neck. She had a knee on either side of him, her chest was pressed entirely to his, and in the back of her mind Ino was grateful that he wasn't wearing one of those shirts with all the buckles, because that would really _hurt_ right now.

He pulled away and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder, rubbing her back and neck and running fingers lazily through the tips of her ponytail.

Ino kissed him on the cheek and leaned against his chest, one hand tracing invisible lines on his neck. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch – Ino couldn't help but smile at that.

It was nice - it was beyond nice. Ino kept quiet, afraid of breaking the moment, but she found that words weren't necessary.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that, but it was dark outside by the time they left.

.

.

.

**How was that? I've spent a while trying to get it right - falling action isn't really my forte**.

**Thoughts? **


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